- you,
apparently i deserve to be hated for who i am.
or, at least, as far as you believe.
i'm rude. i'm not willing to sacrifice my privacy to your appetite for gossip. i speak my mind. i have standards. i am my own person--and entirely comfortable with that.

i am not a doormat. i was not created with the capacity to kiss the hands that strike me. i do not take backstabbing and slander as well as most.

i was not born to take injustice quietly.

and because of this, i was honest; entirely and nakedly honest, once.
only once.

and now, here i stand, wearing a red letter like hester, holding my soul in my arms like she held her illegitimate child, as the world stared and whispered behind self-righteous hands.
tainted.

it only took one phrase against you and your mother came running to your aid, armed with words sharpened to razor edges. she called me a bully, she said i was a bad child. she told my mother that she should "do something about me."
what gives her such a right? to look at me in passing in the same manner that one studies animals at the zoo.
i am indiscreet, yes. i should never have been honest with you. i should have sealed my mouth shut with glue and drowned myself in it rather than say what i said.

foolishness is when you load the gun that shoots you dead.

"i don't want to tell you about my personal conversations because i don't trust or like you."

but then, we've never had an easy relationship.

i'm honest to the point of being rude.

you lie to people to spare their feelings.
you pretend to like people to their faces when you do nothing but talk about how horrible they are when they aren't around. you lead people on and reject them heartlessly when they don't amuse you anymore.

you can't even keep a simple secret.
you won't.

when i was younger, i always thought that people were born the way that they are, but the longer i'm alive, the more of a lie it seems.
no one could be that disloyal without being taught.

so, back to now. i stand here alone, on a pedestal of mockery and shame as the world spins on around me. the author of my own downfall, having handed you a dagger to do with me whatever you would do.

i suppose, dear, i'll carry on. because perhaps i'm in the wrong. after all, the general audience in question favors you.
- anne

angsty, i know.
i wrote this a while ago; i don't know if posting it is a stellar idea. but whatever. here goes.
- anne
p.s. is there any kind of content in this book anyone would like to see more of? advice? jokes? poetry?