10-22-23
I am infuriated.
Don't tell me I'm good. It disgusts me and makes me want to throw up. Something about it tastes weird.
Instead, just tell me I did what needed to be done correctly. Tell me I met all of the requirements. That is all I need to know.
Don't tell me I'm good, and don't tell me why. Why? It tastes more than weird.
You're trapping me. Now there is an expectation to be met. The future is now being thought of. I hate the future because it's unpredictable.
YOU ARE READING
Conversations I'll never have
PoetryI'm tired of writing my thoughts in my notes app
