YOU.
YOU.
I'm sick of it. All the little things are adding up. I've given up on you. I can care to a point, but when it goes past that point...
There are no words.
Deal with it yourself. I'm not hearing any more of it.
And I'll be standing by the sidelines, watching you dig your grave ever deeper.
Note to you: I'm not telling you if you read my journal or not. You might think this is about you. It might be. It might not be.
I'm sick of it. All the little things are adding up. I've given up on you. I can care to a point, but when it goes past that point...
There are no words.
Deal with it yourself. I'm not hearing any more of it.
And I'll be standing by the sidelines, watching you dig your grave ever deeper.
Note to you: I'm not telling you if you read my journal or not. You might think this is about you. It might be. It might not be.