mermaids on wheelchairs

It saddens me, the weather, the season, the summer, the heat.

I never really favoured sunny days and cheerful girls who love their friends so much it hurts to look at them saying goodbye to each other like they'll be gone forever, when in fact they will just be separated for an hour. Spare me the giggles and the never-ending hugs and kisses. I'd rather have a cheap cigarette.

And what saddens me more is that I already tried to quit smoking. But I lost all the motivation left. Or rather, it was taken away.

I have a bad habit of doing what I was accused of. And I was never fond of it. I fancy revenge. That much.

I am immature. And so are you. The whole human race is. There's too little time to grow but enough to at least make your self happy. People see happiness in different ways. And who are you to deprive them of it? You are not the summer.

If only I could speed up time. December, oh sweet December -- the cold morning mist, the night winds, feigning sickness in bed for days, soft cotton sheets, long nights, sweaters, the comforting air of depression -- I would exchange my heart for you. A bloody lump of flesh. You would want that.

It's saddening. The way I am. Too much anger. But no, not in rage. Just too much anger I could kill if ever I am assaulted, walking alone in a dark alley on my way home. Too much anger. Feeding on the summer heat.

You don't know anything. And you feel like you know everything. My chest is burning now and I must stop before it sets my clothes on fire. How do you like the scent of burnt skin? Sizzling.

It saddens me, it saddens me, it saddens me, it angers me. I feel like I'm going crazy.

No wonder the sky is red at sunset.