I talk about my faults like they’re awards I got in high school because sometimes I feel like I have nothing else interesting to say.
I have a need for people’s attention and my frequent pity parties are how I get it.
I have these scars on my body that are like trophies of all the battles I’ve won. I think showing these to people will make them like me – or at least pity me enough to pretend to like me.
I’m a gold medalist in oversharing.
I think my emotions are experts at finding their way to my sleeves and my tears are first place in forcing their way out of my eyes.
I take the phrase “I’m an open book” a little too seriously.
Sometimes I think I should stop talking.
I have anxiety that makes me say nothing at all or way too much and I wish I knew how to find a balance.
I’m not sure if I’m writing this out of honesty or neediness.
I talk about my faults like they’re awards I got in high school. They are trophies displayed on the top shelf.
I think it’s time they came down.
