Bloganuary writing prompt

What do you complain about the most?

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Not saying the thing. You know. THE thing. 

That horrible awful over analyzed thing skipping rocks in your noggin you are sure that if expressed would knock ’em right in the solar plexus which after a second would expose that you weren’t having a recreational nature moment but instead were aiming for their head and missed.

So the rocks fall down your throat instead and when someone asks what’s wrong your words come out sounding like a frog so you say you’re sick cause on some level you’ve allowed your strong dislike of them to tear you up inside and it does make you sick. 

Besides, we were taught that if we hate them then we also hate ourselves but those motherfuckers aren’t alive anymore to tell them THE thing. What bitches, going off and dying before we got a good punch in.