wake up with a bad mood strapped to my chest, like it never left. I move through the day with a storm in my eyes, daring anyone to step too close. I don’t smile to make people comfortable, I don’t soften my tone, and I don’t twist myself into something gentle just so someone else can breathe easy. If I’m mad, I stay mad. If I’m cold, I stay cold. I’m not here to fit into anybody’s version of “nice.” I’m here to be real, even if real feels rough to everybody else. People think I’m dramatic, but I think they’re too fragile to handle honesty.
They tell me to calm down, like I didn’t try that a thousand times. They tell me to relax, like anger just shuts off with a switch. I’m built different. I’m wired with warning signs and sharp edges, and I’m done pretending that’s a flaw. If someone wants soft, they can find soft somewhere else. I’m the cold wind cutting through their excuses, the storm they swear they can handle until they actually face it. They talk bold when I’m not around, but the second I show up, they choke on their own confidence. That’s not my problem.
I don’t apologize for the energy I bring. If my presence shakes the room, then maybe the room needed shaking. If my voice hits too hard, then maybe they weren’t ready to hear the truth. I’m not the villain they imagine; I’m the one who stopped lying to myself. I don’t bend to make people stay, and I don’t break to make people like me. I’m steel and storm, flame and frost, and I own every part of it.
I’m always gonna be mad, and I’m finally fine with that. If they can’t handle the heat, the cold, the edge, or the storm, then they can step aside. I won’t shrink for anybody. I won’t dim for anybody. I won’t carry guilt for being the way life shaped me.
I take up space on purpose now. I talk sharp on purpose now. I walk in loud, unfiltered, and unapologetic. This world taught me toughness, and I kept every piece. I don’t want peace if I have to lie for it. I don’t want calm if I have to fake it. I want truth, even if it’s rough. I want honesty, even if it burns.
Call me mean. Call me harsh. Call me cold. I don’t care.
I’d rather be real than be easy.
I’d rather be fire than be fake.
I’d rather be feared than forgotten.
I’m always gonna be mad.
And that’s exactly how I like it. I’m not here to decorate someone else’s story or play the quiet part just to keep the peace. I speak when it’s ugly, I stand when it’s heavy, and I fight when it’s unfair. If that makes people step back, then good—keep stepping. I don’t chase after anyone who can’t handle the weight of who I am. I’m done shrinking, done apologizing, done pretending I’m softer than I am. The world made me sharp, and I refuse to dull the edges just so someone else can feel safe standing next to me.
