All Those Horrible Things You Say

I keep them. I store them. I save them. And sometimes, on rainy days, when there is nothing else to do, I read them. And I cry. I cry because there are so many horrible things that have been said to me. And I wonder, am I a horrible person? Because nice people are never cursed. People always tell me that I am so nice. Well, then what have I done to receive all of those terrible words? Wanna know something funny? I've only ever kept one nice letter. Only one. Does that mean that people don't say nice things to me? I can't remember that far back... I only remember those things I saved. It makes my life look pretty miserable. I think I need to start a happy collection. Something cheerful. I planted rose bushes in my front yard by the light post the other day. Right now they just look like sticks poking out of the ground. Something a two year old would do and call gardening. But I know that if I keep on watering them they'll grow. Then I'll have pretty flowers. Roses.