Confession: I count my friends. Often in fractions.
Confession: I try so hard to get people to want to talk to me that I butt in and make them feel awkward and uncomfortable.
Confession: At one time or another, I believed each of my friends wasn’t really friends with me, and it was all a joke. “Sophie said she loved me today. It was hilarious!”
Confession: I spend almost ten minutes every morning staring at myself in the mirror, trying to decide if I would hang out with me.
Confession: I speak loudly because I’m terrified no one is listening and softly incase it’s true.
Confession: I stopped kissing my friends on the cheek because people thought I was lesbian, even though I love it, and I still hesitate to do it to my closest friend.
Confession: My mother is my best friend.
Confession: it is very common for me to hope someone is looking when I talk to my friends, because I want other people to know I have them.
Confession: Some popular kids invited me to talk with them because I looked so incredibly lonely. I was just as ecstatic as a nerd from a movie.
Confession: I commonly convince myself that everyone secretly hates me, and they are too scared to say it to my face.
Confession: I am clingy, loud, quiet, mean, sweet, and dorky because I constantly fear that I am a loser.
Confession: I am painfully lonely in a sea of people that love me (I think).