Chapter Two Of An Unorthodox Book

The mere thought of you makes me sick to my stomach...

so I try to think of something else.

Any physical contact I might have with you scares me deeply...

so I try to keep away.

I want to burst into tears when ever I see your eyes...

so I avoid eye contact.

You make me feel cowardly. Years and years and years and years of hard work is being torn down by one " darling " of a person.

You are no darling. 

You make me sick to my stomach, you give me dreams I can't handle, and you turned me into a fat ass crybaby. 

Why? 

Here's why...

LOVE IS A BITCH