I know.
I know that you are my best friend, but I also know that you hate everything about me.
You hate how I dress, how I act, what I say, how I say it, and I'm sorry.
If I could change, I would, but I can't.
I know.
When you mouth or drop hints about my "secret," I know.
I know that it's horrible, that I'm horrible, but you don't need to remind me, I know.
You don't need to remind me when I want nothing more than to forget, just for a little while.
When I want to hide, and be a coward, for once, I don't want to handle the stress of it all.
And I know,
I hate myself, too.
