Pardon the french...
I've done some serious soul searching lately, in a big way, and I've come to the conclusion that I am 100%, certifiably a big ole B word...
I, once, was so mean to a boy on the phone that my tender hearted momma, who happened to be unfortunate enough to hear my tirade, forced me to accept his (10,000th) request that I accompany him to the (supposedly Sadie Hawkins, aka "girls ask boys...." just saying) Sixth grade school dance. Then, I had the audacity to abandon him the moment we arrived (in his mom's car, like it was a date or something. lol), and hide from him the duration.
Yep. I'm a B.
And that's just one example I've recently remembered and felt extremely convicted over. I'm sure there are plenty I don't remember... I'm aware that I've repressed a majority of my, at times traumatic, childhood, so it's entirely possible there are thousands of equatable stories as such.
Greeeaaat...
I think I'll gladly spend the rest of my life righting wrongs and attempting to be the best person I can be now, thank you very much.
If I've ever wronged you in some way, I formally apologize and beg forgiveness.
Sincerely,
that mean girl in class
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