why do full grown men act like teenagers. they still swear you're their heart, only to find 2 other women in the background. no doubt being told the same thing.
I have no real friends, and I am not blaming anyone, what I want to say is that I have never been really sincere and opened myself to anybody. and that is what friends should be for...to be sincere with one another.
everyone leaves. I just make it easy for them.
I gave my friend a gift card for the hardware store for our anniversary, he's a construction worker and therefore a regular customer there. Recently I asked whether he has used it yet, to which he replied that he doesn't know where the card is. It wasn't a "damn I don't know where I left it", it was more a "haha don't even know where it is haha". That's how much my presents are valued.
I know why noone likes me anymore, and if I were someone else, I'd also not like me. I've just been the worst friend/relative you could wish for. Well, maybe not the worst, but a bad one. I am still sad about it. I don't know how to change. I'm trying hard, but it's not so easy to repair something that's already broken.
I don’t have any close friends at all, I don’t really have that big of a desire to make any either though. I have two people I talk to outside of school every other day or so about school not personal stuff but apart from that I talk to hardly anyone else and I don’t really feel any desire to. I don’t really like any of the people I would call friends or acquaintances but we talk at school so I don’t have to look like strange sat on my own, I can make conversation as well as your average person but I just don’t seem to make any good friends. I wonder what it’s like though to have good friends that you feel you can talk about anything and that you want to see outside of school.
Today i got in touch again with my best friend after two and a half yrs of non talking to him. Somehow i don't feel better because he's got a girlfriend and isn't available as before.
I'm looking through wireclub chat rooms looking for you. I'm pathetic.
I’m just messing around, you said when we were at your house and you wouldn’t let me use the bathroom so I ended up peeing my pants. I’m just messing around, you said, and I believed you because I didn’t know any better. You drowned me. At the pool, you held me under the surface so long I started inhaling the water. I was just playing games, you said. You tied my hands behind my back and started taking off my clothes one by one until I broke into a puddle of tears. I’m just having a little fun, you said. In the boy’s locker room, you yelled at me to stop trying to grab your butt when I was only putting on my shirt and everyone stared at me with looks of disgust. It was a joke, you said. After that, I started avoiding you. I stopped sitting with you during lunch. I took different routes throughout the school just so I wouldn’t have to see you. You noticed this. Then, in math class, when I asked to go to the restroom, you said you needed to go, too. So the teacher told us to go at the same time. I didn’t look at you or speak to you during the walk down the hall. When we went inside the restroom, you immediately grabbed me and slammed me against the concrete wall and started beating me up. You were always bigger, stronger. I fell to the ground and suddenly your hand was around my throat. You told me that if I kept ignoring you, you would kill me. You asked me if I understood. I nodded. And then the hand that was around my throat started moving down my body. You put your hand on my dick and gave it a firm squeeze. Then you left. I cried there on the bathroom floor. After that, I started to hang out with you again because, well, did I really even have a choice? I would go to your house whenever you told me to, because if I didn’t you’d beat me up at school. There was that one time we were at your house playing a board game; out of nowhere, you flipped the board off the table and started punching me and kicking me real hard. Then you yanked me to your face by the collar of my shirt and started kissing me. Sort of. It was more like you were slobbering your lips all over mine. I wanted so, so badly for you to stop but I was too afraid to say or do anything. You told me to leave after that, so I left. I didn’t understand why you had kissed me like that. I didn’t care if you were gay or whatever but I couldn’t stand you doing that stuff to me. I hated it. I HATED IT! You started doing weird stuff like that to me all the time. You also started beating me up more often, sometimes for no reason at all. And you started spreading rumors about me. I couldn’t stand it anymore. I started to avoid you again. Then a few days later you followed me into the bathroom again. I started crying as soon as you came in. Like, really ugly pathetic sobbing because I knew you were just going to beat me up and threaten me again and I just couldn’t take any more of it. But you grabbed my shoulders and asked me why I was crying, and I told you that I was crying because I fucking hated you. I was crying because since the day I first hung out with you my life had been nothing but hell. I was crying because I just didn’t understand any of this. I didn’t understand why you beat me up and threatened me and then did things to me that only people who are in love with each other are supposed to do. After I said that, you leaned in and tried to kiss me and I pushed you away and screamed at you not to fucking do that. You told me to calm down but I couldn’t. I was absolutely hysterical. You grabbed me again and confessed that you were gay and that you’ve had feelings for me since the time we first started hanging out. You said you didn’t want to be gay, so you treated me like shit to try to convince yourself that you didn't have feelings for me. And you said you were sorry for everything you did. I said that I already suspected you were gay and that I didn’t care about that. I said all I wanted was for you to leave me alone. I said that if you didn’t leave me alone I would tell everyone you were gay, including your parents, because it was the one and only thing I could use against you. After that, you stopped bothering me. You stopped beating me up, stopped spreading rumors about me, stopped talking to me altogether. You don’t even look at me in halls anymore. And I sometimes wonder if I’m a bad person for using your sexual orientation against you, but you left me with no other choice. And despite everything you did to me, I still sincerely hope you’re doing okay.
I wish I knew what it is about me that makes it so damn easy for the people who claim they love me to be able to hurt me.