Pithy Portrait #1

Hi, I’m Kathleen. I hate you. I pretty much hate all of humanity, actually.

You’re all idiots – it makes me so angry. Lots of things make me angry. Like you. And

Sometimes I feel lonely and wonder why and remember it’s because I’m a hostile ball of hate and that it makes a lot of sense that I

You can’t look directly at me for very long because I shuffle and squirm and make you feel almost as awkward as I do. You wonder why I’m nervous, but

I’m defined by ignorance and confusion and am perpetually overwhelmed

Scatty, lost, bewildered and unable to spell most things right without checking. The shame of

My sense of self importance will swallow me whole, except that it won’t really because

I desperately want to be good at something, at everything, but not just good I want to be better than everyone else and have people feel quiet awe, admiration, without

Often I feel, I sense that my desperation shines through and it’s not understated at all, not a background hum at all but something monstrous, rancid; something with teeth, and that’s why people won’t look too close and that’s why there’s; that’s why I’m

Sometimes I taste blood and yet my mouth is clean and pearly. There are lines under my eyes that no one else can see, except they can. I never have any fingernails. My hair is bendy; my body is lumpy; my

Inflicting my opinions on others gives me great joy. I should be better at it, but eloquence remains elusive, a privilege denied, or a skill unearned. The ignorance of those around me is maddening, but so is my own. My mind can’t rest on one thing for more than 20 seconds, information slips through my