You walk all over me.
You walk all over me. You and everybody else in the world. It’s like I lay down on your carpet and you step on me with cleats. And I let you. I let everybody do it. Every single person I know does this to me. But it hurts the worst when you do it. People try and tell me that people walk all over me, hurt me, not care about me. As if I don’t know. But trust me, I do. And I can’t stop it. It’s almost like being brainwashed into thinking it’s okay. But deep deep down, I know it isn’t okay. If it was okay, I probably wouldn’t be crying over it. But I let people do it anyways. And I don’t know why.
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