cachaemic

Lasta lalaithamin
2011-01-28 13:56:16 (UTC)

Why do I go have friends?


We don't talk like we used to.

It's funny, I could just leave it at that, and it would be true of all
of my friends. Every single one of them.
But I'm really glad I'm talking with you more, darling.
You're my best friend and I'm really grateful for your attempts to help
me.
It's not working. Nothing is. Sometimes I pretend to be another person.
It works, for short amounts of time. And then it hurts, so much more
afterwards.

Gosh, why can't I just rip out my brain, and then rip out my heart.
HERE, HAVE THEM. I DON'T WANT THE, ANY MORE.

Whatever.
I find I care less and less.
But do you even care any more?
Or did I make the worst decision possible?

It's okay, I know you know I'm fat. That's why I didn't fuck you before,
and why I won't fuck until I'm tiny.

Looks like I'm gonna be sexless for a while.
Is it bad that I don't want you to see me for a year until I get small
enough not to be embarrassed any more?




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