I hate you sometimes. I hate how you call me mean things as if I don't have feelings. I have feelings, and you're lucky I don't say shit about you because I at least have a problem with being mean but I can sometimes control it. I really don't have to. I could leave you in an instant and find another friend to spend my time with. I could give a damn about you.
YOU ARE READING
Blind as They See
Non-FictionThe sequel to my previous journal 'They Can't See It'.