Maybe He'd Like me More if I Dyed my Hair Purple and Called Myself CAM

James is in the shower. He's going out for beers with the guys tonight which is fine. We spent the day together, and I don't think he realizes how often he makes me feel like shit. Or maybe he does and just does not care.

Maybe he'd like me more if I smoked, did drugs, dyed my hair purple, kissed girls and called myself CAM. Maybe then he'd treat me better, have sex with me (it's been nearly a month), compliment me, find me attractive and actually want to be around me.

Maybe I should just OD on my meds, slit my wrists and put us both out of our misery. He could comfort Cam all the way into BED; which is where I'm pretty sure he wants her anyway. To be honest, he makes it kind of obvious (he doesn't look at me like that). It's really a shame he never pays much attention to me... Whatever, I don't know why I even bother getting my hopes up in this case. It will never happen.

Heh, just a few days into my new years resolutions, and I've already broken them all. In ONE FUCKING DAY JAMES!! ONE DAY!!!! I overmedicated, started cutting, and stopped eating (and I don't intand to start again anytime soon: fuck you)

Life is wonderful.

Drown myself in music and I write down all my pathetic poisons.

I don't blame him for not liking me, I'm not smart, or pretty, or fun, or musicly inclined. I don't smoke, do a bunch of drugs, play videogames or quote South Park... I'm ugly, too many scars, stupid, scared. Too clingy, needy, whiney. PATHETIC. I should be dead.

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