this and a million different things.
i'm not doing a very good job here.
and the plans unmade ... someone said something about my hair, and i remember him talking, the night before he broke it off, about how having a girlfriend with purple hair was perfectly fine with him.
i want to see him, but i don't want him to see me like this. this is not my best - this is my weakest, my most emotional, my most miserable.
i remember every mistake i made ... every fight i pushed just a little bit further ... every inadequacy i couldn't let go of ... every demand i made ... and i feel like i destroyed all of this little by little. no one to blame but myself for the loss of what was most precious to me.
i can't forgive myself for this.
carry out the sentence.
i get what i deserve.
i'm just an effigy to be defaced.
to be disgraced.
your need for me has been replaced.
and if i can't have everything well then just give me a taste.