“Why do you have to be so difficult, why do you have to make this so hard?” she asked.
If being difficult is refusing to give up my life then so be it.
I pray I will always be difficult.
I refuse to sit docile and let you take away everything I have ever wanted.
Everything I have worked for.
If putting up a fight to keep my realm of existence standing is hard on you, I hope the pressure I have placed on your shoulders and your spine makes you crack.
The more you refuse to give in the harder I will work to break you.
I’m starting to get that sick to my stomach feeling.
Sick of you.
Sick of telling me I’m never good enough.
You think you are all knowing and always right.
But you are not.
In order to be right you would have to have fact,
Not base everything on your opinions and thoughts.
Grow up.
You have me all figured out: I’m rude, stupid, and selfish.
But you have proven that you only know me the least.
I see your rude, selfish and stupid and I raise you vindictive, petty, and immature
You say you are stretched thin
You say your have a hard time
But when I was going through the same thing you pushed harder and harder.
You put pressure on me and focused on yourself.
Thinking about how pathetic I was to have cracked under your relentless.