Truth hurts.

I think somewhere inside you, there is a bitterness about me. Because I hurt you years ago, and I hurt you again now. Because I hurt you and I move on without getting hurt, because every time you try to scratch me back I blow it all in your face, just with a witty response you cannot reply to, or a shrug of the shoulder you cannot shrug off yourself. Because despite all the hurt you forget it in the sober moments we actually talk without trying to annoy each other, without just trying not to lose the argument, without pretensions or making impressions. Because you forget in the crazy moments we actually have fun, let loose, and maybe even connect. At the end of the day, though, I think what really cuts you through is the fact that I'm just plainly honest. Maybe I'm killing you with the truth. Every time.