500.

Pissed and ugly, and I woke this morning thinking how disgusted I am with each one of us, everything. Mood swings, my avulsioned thumb, something dead in the center of my brain, would give you everything I have twice and there's just this sardonic laughter undertone crushing and biting, last night when I walked to the kitchen I offered a "fuck you" but you didn't hear it, instead you heard the clanking and that's what made you worry. Because you will never, ever understand. Not ever. A jar, with a heavy lid. He kept contradicting himself and I just wanted all the talking to end, and for some reason I have learned to never expect that I'll get what I want, just waiting, constantly, for there to finally be silence. A jar, with a heavy lid.