“You’ll never make a woman happy. You can’t even get a woman pregnant. You’ll be lucky if you can find a woman who don’t want kids. Then again, no woman would want to be with you, anyway. You’re short, fat, ugly, and you don’t have a real job. Even if you lose weight, wear nicer clothes and somehow managed to find a decent job, you’ll still be alone. Everybody knows it, but they don’t want to admit it. They don’t want to hear you complain it all the time.”
That’s what I keep telling myself. I’ve already decided to give up on relationships and focus on other things. So why am I being so hard myself? It had to do with my last relationship.
I can’t even bear to write her real name, so I’ll just call her Cassie.
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