and then it hits me:
the horrible wave of insanity,
chilling me to the bone.
i feel like shit.
they put me
in the leader position
every time
just to push me down.
what the fuck for?
my throat tightens
and my eyes sting.
my teeth start to grind.
i hate them all.
there are paint splatters to clean
but i can't concentrate on them,
my only task is ignoring

a/n: I couldn't tell you the exact date, but I think something like September 16.
This piece has been modified from its original version. I took out parts and redid the ending—something I rarely do.