Picking me apart like I’m some appetizer at some bullshit party that no one gives a shit about…
So he tells me… I’m either a doormat or a bitch.
He says there’s nothing in between. “Gotta find that in-between, Jami.” That’s what he says. If I want to be successful? Successful? Whaaaat? It’s not a fucking game? What the fuck?
Good to know though… should I finally decide to open back up for business. Seriously? What?
Whatever… I hate Indiana!