Privileged.

What happened to freedom of speech?

Why does everyone else get to rant about the small, the big, the insignificant, the important, and yet I'm not allowed?

And people wonder why I don't show them my writing. What if I showed them, and then they said that I had no right to write about it? Other than telling them Excuse me, I have a right to write about anything I damn well please, what can I do?

They won't change their minds. Not these people.

I'm not of the "privileged." I can't write what I want, say what I mean. Even when it has encroached little on such territory, I'm torn down.

I'll write whatever I want to write. I'll be angry when I am angry and sad when I am sad. I'll be happy, too, when I am happy.

Such a good morning, shot to pieces. Maybe I can reconcile them into some pretty collage.