Pessimists

I'm sorry for trying to destroy you. You don't deserve it. More than anything, you are my ragdoll that I beat up on, and you silently absorb all of it, take the abuse and the hurt. You have no idea that you are being hurt right now, but you will. I can't do this with you. I can't breathe anymore, I felt so much freer when you weren't laying on my guilty conscience. So, I'm sorry. You don't deserve any of the hurt I'm about to give you. But you just don't feel like you're mine.

Jess texted me and asked me to update her on my life. As if I am going to tell her anything. I'm sure that Kaylie has told her about me and my uncontrollable mouth, my inability to think before I speak and to form correct sentences that actually convey what I want to say. Those are mistakes, regrets, things that I would take back if I could. So are the things I told Jess, which she told to Allison, which she told to him. Feeding the fire and feuling a completely unneccessary blow up. And to be honest, I wish her the best in life, but I lost my friend when that fight errupted. I can't trust her anymore, I see now that she's not on my side any longer.