You’ve fallen behind in life. You haven’t reached half of your minor goals, but your friends are already within grasp of their wildest dreams. Everyone else is ahead of you. You’re not good enough. You’ll never be good enough.
“I get a sharp pain in my leg, as if I’d been stabbed. I look down and there’s nothing there, and absolutely nothing that could have caused it, so I carry on with my work. Next time I look down, there’s a trail of blood going from just above my ankle and trickling down my foot.”
“Not too long ago a guy posted that he was born without an arm. The problem was that he then found pictures of him when he was a baby and had both arms at his parent’s house”
Not every guy with manners is meant to become your boyfriend. The problem is that you’re so used to being treated like shit. You’re so used to unanswered texts and unreasonable requests that you mistake his kindness for love.
You talk about boys way too much.
You were raised right. You were taught to appreciate everything you have — even if it isn’t as glamorous as what your friends have. You’re proud of the crappy car you bought and the tiny apartment you live in. After all, you earned it with your own money.
Don’t compare yourself to others. Only compare your current self to your past self. That’s what I would say if I were a better person. But I’m not. I’m jealous and selfish and obsessive. I don’t want to be better than the old me. I want to be better than you.
She takes forever to text back. She’s lonely. But when a friend tries to reach out to her, she doesn’t respond. She feels like she has nothing worthwhile to say. Like she’d only bring the other person down. Depress them.
On the kitchen counters. Have him turn you around, bend you over the counter, and penetrate you from behind while pulling your hair.
I’m sorry you’re in love with a girl with such heavy baggage. Before I met you, I thought love was an elaborate lie. You’ve changed my mind, but that change didn’t happen wholly. I still have doubts. Not because of you. Because of me. Because of my past.