2001-10-15 - 10:14 p.m.
Dart #1: You despicable spiteful thing. You made me smile through it all, laugh with you. Bastard. It was the toughest show I've had to put on.
Dart #2: I'm sick of avoiding you. I'm sick of having to make a fucking detour when I see you walking my way. I'm sick of fearing that you might ambush me as I come out of the Ladies.
Dart #3: You make me yawn, roll my eyes, cringe, and fidget. And you make my skin crawl. That's some record.
Dart #4: Please don't push me. I'll renounce all rights and privileges. Do you want that?
Dart #5: You intrigue and disorientate me. Because you perch me high up on the pedestal, yet so blatantly degrade me.
Dart #6: Everytime I begin to forgive myself for such appalling misjudgement, someone has to remind me. You have no right to demand anything of me. I'm sorry I'd let you in the past.
Dart #7: Learn to say nothing when there's nothing good to say. That always wins points. Better yet, always have something good to say.
I'm not sure if it's all that therapeutic spitting out my loathe. I suppose it has to go somewhere. Not different from writing evil wishes on toilet paper and flushing it down. Not dissimilar to harbouring ill intentions permanently. Certainly not as good as being less of a coward.
