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don't think.. I think I repress a lot of stuff |
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like, not just my anxiety and stuff |
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but my anger and things... Like... |
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I- I'm really non-confrontational |
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So I tend not to tell people when I'm feeling cross with them and whatever, and I think surely... I suffer because I don't wanna... hurt other peoples feelings or something. |
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I went and saw a psychologist recently and talked to him about this, and he agreed that I need to find a way to express myself more... you know, when I feel angry with people. |
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So what he said I should do was write my feelings down. That way.. expressing myself without confrontation. |
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So I've done that, I've written some of my feelings down in a poem. I think it might help if I could do it for you guys. |
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The poem is called Angry.. or, or or.. in brackets feet... |
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Bit nervous... |
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Sometimes... Sometimes I get a bit angry, |
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But you couldn't tell. |
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No you couldn't tell, |
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unless you looked real closely. |
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Sometimes I get a big angry. |
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But it's alright, |
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yes it's alright, |
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because I keep it out of sight. |
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Inside, |
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deep inside. |
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I breast-fed until I was 9. |
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Which my ...QUACK... Doctor, says is fine. |
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And he also thinks I'd deal with anger better |
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if I wrote about myself in a poem or a letter. |
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My mother was a ...REAL ******* *******... caring lady. |
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She taught me all I know. |
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Although i was a little slow, |
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she never gave up, |
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she never let me ...SLAP... down. |
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Although she spent a lot of time |
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at the neighbours house when my dad was out of town. |
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I didn't walk 'til I was 7, |
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or talk 'til I was 10. |
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But neither did Napolean, |
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according to my ...QUACK *******... doctor. |
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Who has certificates in frames |
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to substantiate his ..DODGY *******... claims. |
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My father left my mother, |
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for the love of a ...POONTANG... nother. |
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And I have a ...BASTARD... brother |
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who I've never really known. |
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Because m'dad moved out to colac |
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BULL*******T YOU FAT *******... telephone. |
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In primary school I had trouble making ...ASHTRAYS... friends. |
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An issue which has become somewhat of a trend. |
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The origin of which I cannot pretend |
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has not perplexed me. |
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Although my ...QUACK, *******... doctor says it's cool |
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and that loads of ...FAT FREAKS... ******* YOU!... kids at school |
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have problems with communication. |
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And that a course of medication |
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would be wise, |
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And combined with more honest self-expression, |
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could help me with my issues with emotional repression. |
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And at 90 bucks a session, |
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I think I'll take the ...THIEVING, QUACK, BASTARD... lovely chaps advice. |
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So I quite like ...PORN... Photography. |
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And books on ...GUNS... History. |
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and I'd like to be a ...POLITICIAN... vet. |
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And I feel as I get older, |
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I'm more in control of my violent tendencies |
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and when I die ...KILL... die |
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I'll have no regrets |
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And I feel that all this writing is really ...POOFY... exciting, |
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and my ...QUACK, DOC, QUACK, *******... Doctor would be proud. |
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Because I feel a lot less angry, |
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and I'm saying stuff out loud, |
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and I'm letting anger out. |
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Like today in our last session; |
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when I taught the ...QUACK... ******* a lesson. |
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'cuz he said I'm not progressing, |
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said I wasn't moving forward. |
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So I said, "well let's see how you move without your ******* legs." |
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And I tied him to his chair, |
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and I pulled out my machete. |
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And I listened to him beg, |
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And then I cut his ******* feet off. |
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And while he lay there bleeding, |
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I used his feet... |
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to kick him in the head. |
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Thank you ...GIGGLING *******S... very much. |
