Slow Suicide

I walked across the balcony, the weak wind barely grazing through my hair. The noise around me calmed the voices in my head. The honking, distant- faint conversations, the noisy bikes, all soothed me. A retreat from the quiet, silent conversations.
I die a little each day. People around me kill me, slowly, but unaware themselves. Loneliness has been my favourite companion; I befriended it when I came across people unworthy of being trusted, understood, respected; people incapable of being human.

Indulging

Let's Start the Murdering Spree...

do you Sob? / Sing? / Scream?

do you sob/ sing/ scream your heart out to vent?

I would choose, depending upon who is near me, and how much damage I wish to create upon them.

I think singing is best, though.

I would still be a fairy if my wings weren't stolen

where is my voice?

People should, for once, not care about consequences, and speak up. Speak up for yourself, speak up because you know you're not wrong, speak up so the other party stops thinking you have no voice.
You keep thinking you don't want to be responsible for making things worse; you might, as well anyway, speak your mind off and be pointed and blamed at, because its going to happen anyway.