May 4th, 2009


(no subject)

dear p,

i find it oddly ironic that as much as you're "scared" of me hurting you
you fucking hurt me everyday
do you realize you use me like a convience store?
and don't talk to me or hang out with me unless i can get you what you want?
maybe you do, and that's your intentions.
maybe i'm playing to fool, and this whole "you're going to hurt me" thing is just an act because i'm dumb enough to star in this fucking mind-game sitcom.
and the truth is, i couldn't even hurt you ever again.
but i'm glad you're opening my eyes and letting me see myself as the door mat i've become.