I get a rush from shoplifting. I'm vain and conceited. I'm probably an alcoholic, or I'm going to be within the next three months. I lie and I cheat and I steal to get what I want. I talk my way out of everything and play dumb to get people on my side. I play people without realizing, and sometimes while being totally aware of what I'm doing. I don't really have a lot of boundaries, I have a mouth like a sailor and I'm kind of a slut. I justify it all as "getting material for writing." I do things like post blogs about how terrible I am so that people will read them and think that I'm not so terrible. I spin everything. I try desperately to convince myself that I'm in the right but when I fall asleep at night, I don't feel right anymore. I just feel alive in a weird way and different than I used to, and I wonder if everything will end up alright or if I deserve for it to.
I have perfect friends and I don't know why, I certainly didn't earn them.
I love you,
Loch
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