people make me sick.
what is the point of letting them in and trusting them when all they end up do is ripping you apart and exploiting the very weaknesses they claimed you could overcome. why offer your support only to turn your back and walk away. i think if people understood exactly how many trust issues i have, and how small the circle of close friends that i open up to and am honest with was, maybe they'd be a little more careful with my feelings. more than likely not.
for example, if you have ever held me or even sat with me while i cried about my baby, you're in this circle, and you're in the closest ring there is. because so few people get to see how much that still tears me up and rips out my heart and just breaks every fiber of my being. too many times lately it has been these people who have abandoned their role as friend. maybe it's too hard, maybe i'm not worth the effort, maybe in the larger scheme of things i just don't matter.
i don't even care anymore. i'm tired of fighting, and i'm tired of getting back up after every punch. you can find me broken and bleeding on a concrete floor.
what is the point of letting them in and trusting them when all they end up do is ripping you apart and exploiting the very weaknesses they claimed you could overcome. why offer your support only to turn your back and walk away. i think if people understood exactly how many trust issues i have, and how small the circle of close friends that i open up to and am honest with was, maybe they'd be a little more careful with my feelings. more than likely not.
for example, if you have ever held me or even sat with me while i cried about my baby, you're in this circle, and you're in the closest ring there is. because so few people get to see how much that still tears me up and rips out my heart and just breaks every fiber of my being. too many times lately it has been these people who have abandoned their role as friend. maybe it's too hard, maybe i'm not worth the effort, maybe in the larger scheme of things i just don't matter.
i don't even care anymore. i'm tired of fighting, and i'm tired of getting back up after every punch. you can find me broken and bleeding on a concrete floor.
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cgilbe1:
whatever else she may have done clearly mavis beacon never taught me typing
cgilbe1:
you rise daily in my estimation dear madame. i once got street cred with my homies. one of the kids i volunteer with is latino and ive got all these homie stickers on my folder in my bag and he saw them one day and was like, "ooooh you like homies" and im like "bro ive got a collection" and from then on the kids thought i was "cool".