I am angry.

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I am angry.

I'm angry that I can't open a door, nor tie my shoelaces.

I'm angry that after a weekend of blissful normality I'm back here again.

I'm angry that I can't remember compliments but can remember the terms 'Spastic,' 'Retard', 'emotionally manipulative', 'scary' is used to describe me.

I'm angry that I overthink everything.

I'm angry that everything scares me.

I'm angry that I can't un-sow my heart from my sleeve.

I'm angry that I can't sort myself out.

I'm angry that I don't have a non-seemly dramatic way of expressing myself.

I'm angry that I don't feel comfortable enough to explain any more to anyone.

I'm angry that I don't have the words to explain.

I'm angry that I can't keep myself together convincingly.

I'm angry that I can't man up.

I'm angry that I have isolated myself.

I'm angry that I can't seem to keep or make friends.

I'm angry that I believe I'm worthless.

Regardless of what those that love me say.

I'm angry that I'm disabled.

I'm angry because I don't like being angry.


-XR

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