You were drunk. You put your hands on my waist. Your head on my shoulder, and whispered something. But I'll never know what you said.

I'm sick of being compared to other people and worrying about what they think of me. I'm just living my life for me and it's so hard to when you face judgmental people everyday. I try to be the best I can be but it seems to never be good enough. I strive for perfection which is always just out of reach...