the enemy

i'm gonna try to write this without sounding like the whiny little bitch that i in fact am. you see, when people's tragic backgrounds finally come out, when they're exposed after what might be years in silence, the world reacts. sometimes by backing away, flee the scene and keep away from the tragedy in a vain attempt to keep the own facade intact, and sometimes by feeling, feeling with, feeling for, feeling sorry. a fucked up background can excuse pretty much anything - sadness, anger, selfishness, vanity, self destruction. but what if you're guilty of most of the above without nothing or no one to blame? do you still deserve the sympathy? if whatever it is that haunts you isn't in anyone else but inside your own sick mind, are you still allowed these emotional crimes? no one ever hurt me badly but myself. and i keep doing it. so much that i try to keep it all away from people i meet, because if i tell the truth chances are they'll run the other way, run away from the horror that is me. that's why i don't tell you these things, not to your face, ever.