It hurts me when people talk about me and laugh about my life.

It's what people do, I suppose. We sit in circles, say nice things, and then, one day, the circle breaks, and all the good things gush from the circle as if they were never there. I am only one person, and I am not enough of a person to really be a circle. I'm broken and gushing and not apologizing.

I hear what you say. I imagine it, I ponder it, I wish I wasn't someone you still laughed at so much. I don't talk about you. Please stop. I am begging.