Guilty Pleasures

Sometimes, I sneak into the kitchen and steal a couple of extra scoops of ice cream when no one’s looking.
Not that there’s anything wrong with eating ice cream… but I already had an entire bowl of the stuff, drowning in a warm bath of chocolate sauce.

I’ll admit that I’ve plotted great stories, called in sick to work, and told many a white lie to get out of being around other people – because I just want to be alone with a cheesy romantic comedy and my tears.

I’ve missed paying off important bills and avoided calls from the bank, because I wanted to indulge in a new pair of shoes, a mini-vacation, or a night out on the town.
I pretend to be on my phone to avoid awkward situations, I pretend not to see people to avoid uncomfortable confrontations, and I’ve purposely ignored endless phonecalls, text messages, and any sort of contact from friends because I’m just too lazy to care (at the moment).

There are times when I pretend to be happy, when I pretend to give a shit. There are times when I’ve messed up and I blamed it all on someone else. I’ve had one night stands, I cheated on a boyfriend, and I usually flirt dangerously with dramatic situations that will definitely lead to trouble.

Sometimes, I decide to go for what I want instead of what I need. I choose to be bad instead of good, and I love every minute of it. Sometimes, I don’t feel bad for being selfish.

I’m guilty of it all.

 

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