You really are. I'm glad you're my friend. You're articulate, well-read, effortlessly cool, and gorgeous......I fucking hate you you bitch. Why do you always do this to me?
Dominate me at every aspect of everything. I quit even trying. I let you have it. You can have the glory, the love and the adoration and I will just be happy to not be alone anymore. Yay, you answered one of my texts and told me how your day was going. I am overjoyed.
You arn't really my friend. You never have been. I'm not articulate or good at all the social shit that you seem to be. How many times do you want me to admit and apologize for it? I have shitty posture. My pores are kind of big. I talk in class too much. I'm not very good at math or science. I'm a flawed person and you're a bottomless pit of perfection.
I roll over and lie on my belly like a dog when I feel like you're getting angry at me. I stop telling jokes and laugh at yours. I let my friends like you better then me. You joke about something I told you in confidence three years ago. I smile. I would have laughed but I was grinding my jaw to keep from crying. I wonder if a real, meaningful friendship would be a more fulfilling addition to your life then using me to make you feel better about yourself. You're articulate, well-read, gorgeous, cool, and carefree.
I am going to vomit.
Monday, January 3, 2011
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment