I was wearing a tank top today and a black sweater. Some of the fuzz from the sweater rubbed off under my arms. It looked like I hadn’t shaved. And I took off my sweater around my ex, AND the guy I like.
I didn’t realize anything about my arms untill I got home.
What the fuck is wrong with you? Like really? You have never talked to me once. But you think that you have the right to judge me. Well you’re wrong. You can’t go around saying shit about me. You can’t give me dirty looks. You can’t exclude me from conversations with my best friends just because you’re friends with them. Talk to me at least ONCE. If you still don’t like me, them you can do all of that. But not when you don’t even know me. “Your girlfriend is sooo fucking ugly man!” how old are you? Oh that’s right. 16. Turning 17. REAL MATURE BUD. You’re so smart. Telling my boyfriend EVERYDAY that I’m fucking ugly. You’re so cool. Wearing your little sunglasses. Swearing all the time. Being a total douche. So cool. You’re actually such an asshole. Yes, I did just compare you to the thing people shit out of. No one even likes you bud. Just a news flash
I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. You don’t know what I’m apologizing for, but that doesn’t matter. I’m just so sorry. I know it’s not my fault. I know it’s not. But I still just get hit with this wave of guilt. Sometimes I can go a week without feeling it. Or others, i can last a month. But the longer I go without feeling it, the more it hurts when it hits. To be honest, sometimes it feels like I’m drowning. And I don’t like it. It just gets under my skin, gets to my heart, and just shoves shards of glass into it. It kills. And sometimes I just want to curl up and cry. I’m so sorry. You don’t even understand. I wish I could go back and fix everything. Stop that from happening. I would have plugged my ears and ran away. I would have ran far away. Far far away from them. It really hurts thatI can’t fix any of this. I wish I could erase everything from my head. Everyones told me it’s not my fault. And most of the time I believe that. But I over analyze things. I over think. It hurts. It hurts so much. I’m sorry. I can’t even explain how much I’m sorry. I’m such a horrible person… I’m sorry. I hate myself for everything that happened.