I can’t do anything right.
I try to be normal.
I try to make you see that I’m fine.
I try to make it so that you don’t worry about me.
I just make it worse.
And I can’t even talk to you about it because the times I do have to talk about it with you are limited.
And who wants to spend time arguing.
Time to suck it up Sydney.
Get over yourself.
There’s someone who deserves to be happier than you.
Point. Blank. Period.