It felt amazing in English today just to write and be a bitch and make an angsty hateful, spiteful, cynical and pessimistic poem and not have everyone calling you a bitch for doing it. I cut you down, I smashed her image, I insulted life and it felt great. I've always loved writing but when I get upset it's always been painting to come to my rescue but today, when I read that poem out loud, I ended in tears. Not because I was upset but because I was so happy to get it all out of me. Not to be so angry and resentful anymore, not to be the person I hate anymore. The tears were tears of freedom. So what if my English class saw me cry, I'm only human. If I could do that every day, if I could say what I was feeling without the fear of you hating me for it, without having to worry what you'd think, or how you'd react, I'd be the happiest person alive.