In his weak moments, he says that he still loves me, that he misses me. But somehow he only finds his way over when he wants to fuck. There's always a little bit of obligatory friend chat, then straight into rough, empty sex. He's not even really trying to hide that he's using me. I'd be lying if I said I didn't like it.

Most of my mistakes, I'd keep, given a choice. But I wouldn't mind having used less people. All I can do is not do it again, and be sincerely sorry, I guess.

i once bought a used text book. on the front cover was a yellow strip of tape with the words "USED USED USED USED USED" scrolled across in big black letters.

i stuck that piece of tape on my forehead and took a picture.

every now and then i go back to look at it. i don't think that back then i felt quite as used as i do now.

weird, isn't it.