What you don't know, won't hurt me. But your words may. You don't know my life story. What formed me into this person. You don't know that I have been raped, molested and beaten. But that won't stop you from calling me names; names like "slut", "whore", or "cheater." You don't know that I never truly felt my father's love. So when I am quick to anger, or lash out inadvertently... you still presume you know me enough to gossip. You don't know that in the eighth grade, I was called fat for being a size 5 when my friends were 3. Or that I took birth control at age 14 for cramps, not sex. Or that my mother died of a cancer through which she suffered greatly. That she died only 3 months ago, and the hurt is very fresh. That I've had 7 friends commit suicide. And not "friends" like the people you pretend to know to get attention... genuine, caring friends who left a hole in my heart.
Instead of getting the facts, you enjoy your lies. You like the way gossip makes you feel. Like you are in control. But I don't know you, so I can't presume that's the reason. Perhaps you just gossip because you're a shallow, self-centered, ego-maniacal bitch... but what do I know?
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