And you have no idea
No idea how it feels to be on your own
In your own home
With the fucking phone
And the mother of gloom
In your bedroom
Standing over your head
With her hand in your head
I will not pretend
I will not put on a smile
I will not say I'm all right for you
You bloody mother fucking arsehole
You bloody mother fucking arsehole
You bloody mother fucking arsehole
(Martha Wainwright)
She's polishing the brass on the Titanic.
-Brad Pitt- in Fight Club
The poem in your journal makes me want to throw something against the wall, pull my hair out and scream.