Sunday Secrets.

I love you.
It shocks me how many I can think of doing myself. I hate to have secrets, but some are so sordid I couldn't show a soul, so Post Secret wont be getting a postcard from me.

Today I find out terrible things about my friends. On reflection, it might have been the worst day of my life. Everyone around me seems to be in constant angst and upset. It's deeply distressing to know my nearest and dearest are going through awful times, and the most I could possibly do is sit down with them and have a brew.
We spoke for a few hours today, none stop. Some of it made me want to smash my face into the floor. There was once a time it was me saying these things and feeling as she does, it must be so awful for her. I don't exactly know what to do, but remind her of something I am certain she will be happy about. There's only so many times I can do this though. How long before I'm out of conversation starters and all it's down to is my cardigan beings dripped on with tears? I'm worried I can't do my job properly.

It's also my least favourite thing to realise how fake your friends might be. It's all very well and good that they're your friend and will be for a very long time, but what they might be doing to another person repulses me with every thought. Manipulation is a crying shame. Especially when it's put upon someone you care so deeply for. Like I do.

I never want to embarrass myself like I did at the beginning of the college year, ever again. Which means I could never approach them. So when I recieved a text today saying I should come over, I could do nothing but stare at the screen and hate the fact I had no credit. How ignorant I must have looked. He was looking right at me as I read it, I know he was. Everytime I tried to make eyecontact he wasn't looking. Who could potentially be a good friend, I ruined it once more. Perfect, thank you Martha.

I wish he would stop it, everytime he says it to me my skin crawls. He said it to me again last night and all I could do was sit in silence. I must have to tell him at least five times that it's too late, and everytime I say it I hate myself a little more.