The Truth

She is self-absorbed

She can’t be bothered with your petty problems

She’s got shit to do

She likes to stay home then accuse her friends

Of leaving her out

She has a lot going for her but chooses to be depressed

She’s got her own opinions

And feels the need to broadcast them

Just so you know she’s something special

She’s always busy as hell when you need her

But somehow finds the time

To do the crap she likes

When she’s got something to say

You’d better listen

Or else you’ll be on her “bad” list forever

She thinks she’s better than everyone

And that everyone needs her around

Like her presence is grace

 

I can’t stand her!

Every time I see her I cringe

And just want to leave the room

As fast as humanly possible

 

The worst part about her:

She is me.

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