Place, time, person, reason
I wonder when they will hate me, who will tell, what forced them to admit, where it will be said, what words they will use. How very wretched I make myself with these foolish, childish questions. Am I being realistic, or am I just lost in my own anxieties, my pessimistic tendencies? I hope to god that in a day or so, I will look back at this and say "it was the latter you fool", and then laugh at it all, and pretend it was never hurt as much as it did. Even if they don't hate me, I hate myself right now, just for being so sickeningly cliche.