Get off!

Sometimes I wish I had a bigger mouth. Not that it didn't get me in trouble before. But I do choose my words.

Sometimes I wish I had the courage to say what's going on. To point out the problem.

Look, man! That's your problem. Leave me out of it if you haven't kept me in the loop in the first place.

More and more situations arise where I just wanna say, you know, get off me. You bitch about everything everyone does. Understandably enough, I don't do everything right. Far from that. But at least I have the stones to say so.

Man, you can't see my little bonsai from your gigantic eucalyptus jungle.

I don't know why I get upset so much. But I know I do.
Maybe I should just act like them. Not give a fuck. One ear in, one ear out.
Seems to be working.

I'm sure I have my own issues that might press people's buttons. But whether I change them or not, at least I'm aware of that fact.

Don't fucking pick on me for not having a girlfriend.
Don't fucking pick on me for not weighing a hundred and twenty.
Don't fucking pick on me for having an accent.
Don't fucking pick on me because you think you could've put it better.
And don't fucking pick on me because you've been around for a week longer.

This seems appropriate: