I don’t know what my deal is tonight.
Really.
I’m laying in my bed, drunk as hell, just thinking about all sorts of stuff. I constantly feel so stressed. I feel like I’m always pushed to my absolute limits and then I fail to succeed. I have kind of started giving up on stuff. I feel myself becoming less and less social. I want to stay at home more often. I don’t want to be around a lot of people. I’m always really anxious. You know, I never said I was a saint, I just said I’d try my hardest. Now I feel like I’ve done just and exactly that. I haven’t slept in two days, it’s time for some rest. Maybe that’s why I’ve been such a peeve.
I just don’t understand why you couldn’t have told me the truth. That is all I’ve ever wanted you to do, but you wouldn’t even do that. I had a feeling that I was right, yet you tried reassuring me I was wrong. Now I know that I’m right, and that I always was. One thing I hate the most is that any time something happens, your only reason for doing it was because I had previously done something you deem as shitty before whatever happened. Last night hurt my feelings a lot, and not that it’s too significant or important, but you’ve both lost a friend.
