I admit it.

When I got drunk at the river I liked that those guys, no matter how nasty, referred to me as "beautiful", and held my hand so I wouldn't fall in the water. I liked that they talked to me.

I liked even more that whenever they did talk to me he would come over and stand next to me. Even if it was just so he wouldn't have to explain something terrible to my mother.

It did bother me that he was all over a nasty little girl six hours after I'd fucked him.

I didn't expect the sex to be good, but I knew someone would call me out on it, and then I could take everything out on them.

I don't really even like sex that much. Except for with that one guy. Who I'm supposed to hate.

I don't hate him at all, not even a little bit. I just pretend to.

I keep having nightmares about going back to school. I don't know if I dread it so much because I'll have to see them together, or if it feels like I'll be stuck there forever. Probably both.

It makes me feel less guilty for cheating on him when I take care of him when he gets too drunk. I hope he can tell I do it because I love him.

I would have never told anybody what he was doing if I would have known she wouldn't believe it.

I feel so much sexier now that I'm tan.

I miss cutting. But I'm so close to a year.

I think there's a part of me that wants to be alone forever. Otherwise I would try to make things work.

I was recently accused of lying to everyone I care about, and fucking all the ones who don't give a shit about me, and I guess it's true. But the lying isn't intentional.