Actually, I do
care.
Are you surprised? I have feelings,
too.
I care that people hate me. I care that
you insult me.
I mean, I’m only human, so I guess
this shouldn’t be surprising.
Believe it or not I actually care that I
hurt people.
But it’s not like I’m going
to say sorry for being real.
You all talk about how much you wish you
would meet someone who doesn’t fake it.
Well sweetheart, I’m right here. In
plain view.
I don’t bullsh/t things around so
you can hear the sweet lie, rather than the hard
truth.
If you look bad, I’ll tell you. If
you look good, I’ll tell you.
If you say something rude, I’ll be
a b/tch to you. I’m sure you do that,
too.
So stop lying to me and yourself, and
come to face reality.
But I only get hate because more people
are rude to me, for whatever reasons.
But, in a way, I’m okay with
that.
I’d rather be the one to take all
the hate then let some innocent person get b/tched
at.
I’d rather come off as a b/tch,
than to have someone else be rude, involuntary.
I’ll take the blame. I mean, I have
been since I was five.
I broke the lamp, I broke the glass, I
broke the window, I broke the door, the tv, the computer, the
cell phone only you use. I break everything.
So yeah, I’m used to taking the
blame, so what not I guess?
You’re past never really leaves you
apparently.
‘Cause here I am taking blame for
things I didn’t even do, again.
