I can’t shake these feelings; and I have them constantly anyway, but they’re so intense now.
maybe I’m not ready for this…
or just you…
I think this was a mistake.
although I may be comfortable with it now…
you could be right about the too attached thing.
I’m really worried about myself now; where will this lead?
Time, my actions will tell.
I hate feeling ugly all the time.
I hate feeling unloved.
I hate feeling like i’m not good enough for him.
I hate waking up every fucking day, and wondering why i’m here.
I hate crying.
I hate being alone.
I hate this post, and I definitely hate all this whining.
I hate how this post is going to have me labeled as emo.
I hate how I talk too loud, or too much.
I hate how I compare myself to everyone, and force myself to believe i’m a thousand times prettier than them.
I hate this false security.
I hate lying to myself.
I REALLY HATE how I walk, and how someone points it out when I think i’ve fixed it.
I hate how there’s no way to fix it other than some surgery that’s gonna keep me in a wheelchair for months, and how i’ll have a large chunk of metal in my leg for the rest of my life.
I hate how my Mother had to do drugs.
And I hate how it fucked me up.
I hate how that seems incredibly selfish.
I hate the fact she’s dead.
I hate how my first real boyfriend made me feel like the ugliest thing in the world.
And I hate how my second made me feel unhappy. (even though he’s a really nice guy with lovely eyes.)
I hate how that one guy made me disgusted with sex.
I hate how I don’t feel like i’ll ever get over it.
I hate how he called me a thousand times afterward.
I hate how my Grandmother still adores him, and tries to make me talk to him, or go in and see him at work.
I hate living with my Grandparents because I know eventually they’ll die.
I’ll go someplace bad.
And be alone.
I hate how I don’t think I could make it without my Grandma.
I hate how I feel like an awful person all the time.
I hate how I’m always left out.
I hate how my RL “friends” don’t seem like they’d give a shit if I died.
…Except for Rachel.
I hate how I can’t trust anyone.
I hate how I think everyone has a motive.
I hate how I think everyone is lying to save my feelings.
I hate how i’m so damn paranoid.
This post makes me seem so unstable.
I hate how I kept everything so bottled up inside.
I hate how its being expressed through this.
…
Seany & I just had an amazing phone conversation about Freddy.
So he’s in the car, and talking about something, and I said…
“What if Freddy’s outside?”
“I’d run him over with my car!”
“I’d kill you. I love him.”
“Well, then he’d kill me, and you.”
“He wouldn’t kill me, he loves me.”
“Well, would you let him kill me?”
“I wouldn’t let you kill him. You can kill me instead.”
“… I should just run him over, it’d be easier.”
“This girl can’t write Freddy’s personality at all!”
“What?”
“Fanfiction. He keeps calling ‘his girl’ darlin’.”
“Yeah, she totally can’t. Freddy’d call her bitch.”
“I dunno, not for someone he had geniune affection for?
How do you think he cuddles?”
“Uh.. I dunno.”
“Awkward!”
“I know how he fucks! And it involves fire. At least it did the first three times.”
“First time? How many times have you done it?”
“Uhhh. Three, I think. That involved fire. This was the first that didn’t.”
*Sean laughs.* “What the fuck.”
“I was really scared the first time.” *Jen laughs.*