(formatting retained from original journal entry written while waiting around after school)
I feel worse now than I did the night she dumped me. I dunno. Now I have to worry about stupid shit, like how much better at kissing he is than me, or how un-shy he is.
I know I'm going to break down crying tonight, early this morning, sometime...
Why the fuck does she still insist on calling me "cutes"? It's like she knows it makes me want to die, and she just wants to hurt me even more than she already has. I ought to just kill myself and make her job easier -- only then, I wouldn't get to see her reaction...?
Why is it that all I can picture is them making out? or groping madly at each other? or her sucking him off? or them fucking? As said before:
It wouldn't be nearly so bad if I didn't know what I was missing.