Now I know why . . .

. . . I made a brick wall in my ceramics class. It makes an interesting piece. It's a box without sharp corners. When it is closed you cannot tell where it opens. It has texture. Turns out none of those reasons are it. I made a brick wall because it is such a big part of my life. I talk to brick walls. I speak, I am listened to, but I am not heard. I run into brick walls. The road looks clear, then boom! I run into a brick wall. I repair the damage, continue driving, and bam! Another wall. That is why. And before I go to bed I just want to say: words are cheap. I don't want to hear "I am sorry for hurting you" ever again! I am sorry you are so emotionally dishonest. You should know that I am not stupid. I can tell when something is said without thought and out of reflex, guilt, or shame. I had a dead beat father, remember?! Just say nothing. I'd rather hear silence than another empty word. I am trying so hard not to be angry, but everyone has their breaking point. Enough! Today I Feel: