Title: Pitiful
by Kate | in writing, fiction
You are pitiful.
Why should I be reminded of the golden days so frequently?
It makes me loathe them.
But for some deranged reason it's a great comfort to sit at home in misery, thinking about them.
I know I'm wrong, but I have this insane feeling that you're worth it.
Some day they say, some day we'll happen. I call their words false hope.
You are worthless to me, yet you are everything.
How idiotic I am to feel like his, to let anyone get the best of me.
I am pathetic; pitiful.
Life, love.
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