Being me.

Being me is not fun. There are a million thoughts that run around inside my head all at once.

She dosent like you. It’s pity. 

Is she ignoring you?

Are you actually wearing that? It’s hideous. 

Why aren’t you wearing it? Too scared, are we? Waste of money. 

They hate you. They hate you. They hate you.

No, she dosent want to talk to you.

~Past insults~

You think he likes you?! Keep dreaming…

No, don’t go to school. Fake sick. Stay in bed with me. 

You are disgustingly ugly. 

Great job on that test you professional fuck up. A shit score once again. 

Wow; are you eating that?


Pretty sure your mum hates you. 

She does. 

Ungrateful child. Dosent help around. I don’t blame her. 

Quick, panic. 

Stay up all night panicking. 

And I just want to run away from it all, because I literally feel like these thoughts are chasing me. I can’t stop worrying about what people will think of me. I can’t stop worrying, ever. It’s draining, to be honest. 

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