Yesterday I woke up long enough to have dinner. I went back to bed afterward. Didn't sleep, of course, gave up two hours later. Going through this whole ugly breakup thing, during which I waited ten months, now. Pretty sure I don't matter at all, even to my "best friend."
Here, I'm a damn ghost. If someone knocks on the door, it's always, "Is this person around? What about that person?" It's never, "Hey, Kimberly! Here's what's going on. Tell them when you see them."
It's never even hello. I've lived here eight years and I don't know if these people know my name. Not that any of them are likeable, and I'm seriously starting to wonder if anyone is. Hell, maybe I'm to blame for that, too!
It doesn't help that everyone I know says they respect me. If they did, they would not call me Kim; I've asked them a billion times not to. I'm not a Kardashian, I'm not the war-mongering dictator of North Korea. It's two more syllables. If you're that unbelievably lazy, use my middle name. Fucksakes.
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