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regrets
I don't deserve for him to be nice to me, if he forgives me. I've never been a very good girlfriend, never pretended to be. Love is always out of left field. Like, "Oh, that's nice. No idea why you do, but okay."

I'm just fat, inconsiderate, and selfish. A hypocrite. I'm oblivious to feelings. I have no way of gauging where lines would be crossed, so I cross them. Accidentally. But a part of me knows it's there, I'm just not 100% sure.

I don't want him to come home if he's drunk. I'm pretty terrified of the things he'd say.

I think my policy, of course, should be silence. That's what it should always have been, and always should be. I shouldn't expect anyone to understand what I really mean. What my motives are. They're always good, even if they're naive. I'm never out to hurt anyone, even when I'm trying to defend myself.

But I don't think that's really a great way to live, defending myself all the time. Perhaps I shouldn't care what he thinks, because he'll think it anyway. I've tried defending myself with logic and explaining why I did or said certain things. And it hits a brick wall. I feel as if I can never get exactly what I mean into words in a way that will fix things.

This time, I was a goddamn idiot. I crossed a line I should have seen, but I used past conversations to make a decision. And that was wrong. There are unsaid things I should have seen. And I'm a dumbass for not seeing them, really. I'm not used to this, and I don't know if I ever will be.

I guess we'll see.

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2015-08-20 @ 9:36 p.m.