"What do you do when you're upset?" Karen asked me while I was walking her to the bus stop.

Easy. "I write. Write in my journal."

If that's the case, then I have been upset for the last year. Well, I can say that I have had many psychotic episodes. When ever I was highly escatic, I would want to share that happiness with the world. Happy. Joy. Joy. Happy.

It's awful to know that some people were not even aware that they were being callous and cold-hearted. That they didn't even that their words had the power to create hope and the ability to tear someone into pieces. I feel sore.

Maybe I need to listen to more angry songs.