…it just makes me loathe myself and the world once again. I know it grows tiresome and ridiculous for me to continue to harp on something I should’ve gotten over weeks ago, if I ever should’ve had anything to get over in the first place. No, I’m just appeasing the masses by saying that. I shouldn’t have gotten over anything, because it’s not in my nature to get over things. If I could get over this, I could get over every oozing wound I’ve had in my lifetime, and I’d be happy from time to time and would not be so sensitive to everything. Someone is liable to suggest that I like playing this role, that I continue to react the same way to situations because I’m so comfortable with how this feels. Wrong. I don’t want any advice from the peanut gallery. A simple, “I don’t quite understand, except that I understand you’re in pain, and I’m hear to listen” would suffice, but no one ever offers that, and frankly I don’t want it if I have to ask for it anyway.

Public entry…come friends and family who don’t know that this exists, give this a read. Those who know this exists, come tell me what a self-absorbed asshole I am and how I deserve to drown in my own vomit.