July 14, 2003.
don't talk to me in your soothing voice, it makes me sick. don't try and bribe me with food and declarations of caring, don't try and rationalise everything so that it is okay in your warped mind. don't tell me the rights and wrongs when you have been supressing wrongs that are more wrong than i have ever done.
what you did was like hiding the dead body. maybe you meant well. maybe you thought it was better. it wasn't. i want to know. i want to know everything. i have a right.
why did nobody tell me. why am i the last to know. why am i paranoid now that when v said "everybody knows who's father fucked the housegirl", he knew. he knew and i didn't. everybody knew. nobody told me.
i feel sick.