I keep telling myself that it's not always about me. I keep reminding myself that it's not always about what I want. What I need. What I feel. I keep telling my heart the world doesn't revolve around you. But the amount of "I" I have used in this blog proved that I care nothing except my own well being.
And it's disgusting.
I thought about all the conversations I had with the ones I deemed closest to me and it made me loath myself even more. All I ever talked about is myself. All that was ever in my mind was how terrible of a life I had. And it amazes me that my friends are still around. That they still put up with all the nonsense and baggage I have bought along with my damaged self. It's as if they don't see the dirt that I am, tainting their beautiful innocent hearts with my repulsive one.
Forgive me. For I ended up talking about myself yet again.
