sometimes i go back and read my written journal entries that nobody else reads and i hate myself for things i say about you. the things that don't sound like me speaking. they make me wish that it wasn't so hard to not be friends with you because i feel that i am not worthy to be your friend ever.
sometimes the entries disgust me to the point of wishing i didn't live, but then i remember that that would be even more disgusting than any words that pass from my lips or my pen.
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sometimes the entries disgust me to the point of wishing i didn't live, but then i remember that that would be even more disgusting than any words that pass from my lips or my pen.
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