Broken Glass in My Heart

Excerpt from a note discovered with my journals (written on scrap paper):

Everyone I’ve ever known has hurt me. I hate their selfishness, and I hate mine. I hate the lies, the gossip. Each betrayal feels like jagged bits of broken glass in my heart. Whenever I try to move on, the shards cut me. They’re in there deep. I feel them–every slice, every time.

Why does everything have to hurt so much?

– Date of writing unknown

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