Monday, May o1, 2oo6
I hate crying.
Moreso, I hate being used.
Being second best.
I hate writing these.
I'm always writing.
And changing moods as the day progresses?
Whatever.
"We need to talk."
That's always wonderful to hear.
I guess I should be greatful.
You broke it off quick.
You didn't let it go on for three months.
It still hurts like hell.
"You know I care."
No, not really.
And I hate how I let my emotions get the best of me.
Always.
Damn.
I always blame me.
It has to be my fault.
Right?
Maybe I push too hard.
Yet, you're the one that invited me over.
Where did that come from?
"I shouldn't have let it happen."
Then why did you?
Maybe I am just the dumb one.
Not seeing what's really going on.
Being used to make others see what they're missing.
I hope you two are happy.
I don't mean that.
But that's what your're supposed to say.
Along with "I'm fine."
All the while choking back tears.
"You still like him."
Yeah, that's going to make it better.
"Wasn't it his fault?"
"Wouldn't you give him another chance?"
What does that have to do with us?
You're still going to be second best.
It's called "another" chance for a reason.
It's true, life sucks.
And there's no such place as Happyville.
I hate this.
I hate that I didn't kiss you good bye.
I hate that our friendship is going to be fucked.
I hate being second best.
I hate being used.
I hate crying.
[Edit:] Total waste of my tears.
Got the real story from Brenna.
And I believe her.
He's just another asshole.
[Edit x2:] Yeah.
I was an idiot for believing her.
None of that bullshit should have happened.
Whatever.
