re: and so what?

So forgive me if I envy Schmutzie,
capable of writing and delivering a sentence so strong
that it simply just makes you remember this:
"I could find those tiny, translucent snail shells that snap so softly under your thumb that you are surprised every time that someone lived there."

Me? I got a back pocket full of judgement
I've built it up for near a year, see, and
there's room for everyone there. It doesn't matter
if you all get along. Join the party.
Cool kids to the left, those of you with partners to the right.
You will all leave early.
The rest of you are expected to get oh-so-drunk and really really
pretend that the pretty girls don't run the show also
don't ever call out the cock-boys you might just
make them use their brains and therefore, dear margaret,
kill the vibe.

There is a place inside of me that doesn't understand any of this.
There is a place that fights and fights this, that fights
and fights and what do you mean that you "have my back"?
This place that does not get nurtured, this place that even I
dismiss in the name of good times, love, and friendship.
This place that makes me think "Fuck yeah! I'm going to head to
Buffalo Pound Lake for a 10 day retreat and I will eat nothing but
fruit juice and meditate on why exactly it is that my life is shit,
and how it is that the people that supposedly care about me
just build bulletproof cases against me
and whisper when I leave the room.

What does it feel like to say exactly what you feel like saying,
and not have to worry how it's taken, heaven forbid revered?
Seriously, what exactly does that feel like?
I'm real tired of not knowing.