This isn't geared toward one person.  The words that are about to bleed from my fingertips are being sent out to one small part of the accumulation of nerveless half-wits that have no place in my mind anymore, and this is their escape.

I didn't want to wear a bra today, but you would have made me if you could.  You never liked it when I was free, you never liked it when I just left you alone and tried to be me, me, me, not just yours, yours, yours.  I did your laundry and made your bed and wrote your papers and fed your big head. But you couldn't hold my hand in a public place, you couldn't dry my tears from my wet shiny cheeks. You couldn't, you wouldn't, you were always too small. And now I need better, and now I know better, and now I am better.

I didn't want to shave my legs today, but you hate when I'm not as feminine as you, and you hate that I make up my own jokes, and you hate that I can't take life as seriously as you do.  But I'm better for it, and I know my limitations, and you chastise me for being mean, but really it's just real, and you've never known what that is.  You judge without reason to no avail, what good does it do you, what comfort does it bring? Do you enjoy sleeping next to your black-and-white ideology while I swim in my bed of gray? Are you warmer at night knowing you'll just never know and you don't care to know and you'll make rash indictments against others anyway?  I want to pull your mask up and find out how free of yourself you really are because my guess is, you're tied down tighter than I'll ever be.  Don't complain when the hand you're holding drags you to the bottom when you only had to let go to float.

I didn't want to be sexy today, but you make everything into a petty competition of looks that I never win, and if I do, then I don't want it because it's your game and not mine, and it never will be.  I'm not seductive or sultry or stormy or stifling today, so stop treating me like I need to be.  So maybe I am stormy, but I'm also sarcastic and sagacious and savvy.  Treat me like I'm those things too.  I'm more than the body I dwell in, I'm more than just the fingers I'm typing with or the finger I'm giving you as you finally walk away.  I'm more than the skin that I fight with and rub down and peel off and cover up.  

I didn't want to do my hair today, but you hated my hair when it was curly.  You hated my hair when it was curly because it reminded you that I still had secrets, it reminded you that I was crazy and that maybe you were too, it reminded you that I was real and that the mechanisms inside me were still working to the extreme.  You never could accept those things, and now you've found yourself a straight-haired girl who won't remind you of those things anymore.  Who won't remind you that there's still the possibility of a monster under the bed.  Who won't remind you that the soul is as cavernous as a pit and that you'll never know everything about her.  Maybe you will. Maybe her soul isn't so deep and wide, and maybe she doesn't even believe in it. Maybe the drugs are enough to pretend it's not there.  She won't remind you that feeling is worth doing and crying is part of imperfection and pain is as valid as pleasure.

But I would. And I consider who I talk to and who I talk about and who I love and who I hate.  Which is no one, because I just can't, no matter how bad I sometimes want to, there is always that urchin of decency that reminds me how vulnerable the human psyche is, that reminds me that other people are crazy too, that reminds me that people were put into my life for a reason and instead of hating them I should be learning from them.  And if I am hated, then hate me for me, hate me for the crazy, braless wonderful woman that is this.  Hate me for loving you, hate me for needing this, hate me for reminding you that you're not perfect.  That you're not even close.  That none of us are, and because of that you shouldn't be such an asshole to people you don't know.  And hopefully, when you start to hate me, you'll realize, like I did, that you can't.  And maybe when you realize this, like I did, it'll frustrate the hell out of you.