Grimes

Grimes may be a musical genius, but she has no right doing those operations on us nor advertising them. 

I have rights, even though I am mentally ill.  You don't get to strip me of them for your own sordid purposes and exploitation.

I write and dream of better things.  I am not allowed to experience much in my reality because I'm disabled and limited.  I've always put that aside and had my fantasies.  Yes, I had my hallucinations, too, both verbal and visual, though I stopped having them after they put me on medicine, which works, not like the lobotomy that has turned me into a happy idiot. GO TEAM!  You will now acquire world peace, and there will be bubbles and sunshine. 

I control and influence so much, after all.  Evil me.  I deserved the 8.5 month headache, being chased by the fallen and cyanide through my vents.  I don't know why I got angry...  It was addicting, however, to be allowed my own thoughts.

Bring it on.  I'm used to being the victim and picked on.  Not anymore.  I still haven't learned proper argument skills.  I will lash out in desperation because no one will listen to my viewpoints, even about my own body. 

They don't have to, yet I have to guess at the invisible...

I was happy on minimum wage.  I rode my bicycle to Subway and took pride in serving people.  I had to work 2-3 jobs to help people who don't appreciate me, and yeah, that was stressful.  However, if I ever have to go back to making minimum wage, I'll be fine. 

I like olives.
I like to write.  Yes, I do, yet again.

That's the deal breaker, the one they ignored: I write.  I may not be the best at it, but it is my way of expression, of feeling free.  It's all I have. I abhor painting and drawing.  I painted a few pictures to make a quick point, as many people don't like to read me.

The icon I use for my profile pic is a hallucination or a group of them, seeing beyond reality to a realm of soul and a sea of confusion.  That damn piece of shit, brain mudding punk used to occupy me all of the time. 

It came from the machines.  They made it.  Pleasing death, as usual.

WILSON!