Whatever.

Call me fat and call me ugly,
baby, I can handle the truth.
I never really expected this,
especially coming from you.

You say that you're just kidding,
but you never really apologized.
You have caused so much damage,
And I know you won't sympathize.

Call me babe and call me pretty,
baby, I can't handle the lies.
I have always hated myself,
now I know what you despise.

Why is it so hard to be honest?
It shouldn't be all that bad.
Are you afraid to hurt me now?
Do you think I will get mad?

Call me a b-t-h, call me rude,
at least you're being truthful.
I would rather that, than you lying,
the truth is actually quite useful.

What makes -me- so different?
How come we are not even?
I am really tired of trying,
there isn't anything to believe in.

But when I joke or kid around,
the universe just comes to an end.
I'm sick of saying that it's okay.
I'm sick of just having to pretend.

Even though I get made fun of,
I still love you more than ever.
Even though I wish it would end,
I know you love me, or whatever.

© Katie Gammon. January 2007