[Self-loathing is her favorite way to pass time, clearly.]

Something like that, yeah. I don't know if it's something either of us really wants to talk about to begin with, I know that I'd be shit at everything and I'm pretty sure he knows that, too. There's no real point in talking about it, it happened, whoop-de-doo at this point.

[GOD, why does he have to be correct on everything? She's quiet herself, looking down at her hands for a second, she hadn't noticed that they were balled into fists and her knuckles were practically white. Great.]

Kinda, yeah. Whore, slut, whatever the hell the word you wanna use for it is. Just like everything else in my goddamned life, even all of this is fucked up.