First bit in 2nd chapter of my novel

Let me know what you think- Thanks.


All could have been forgiven if she had bigger tits. It's not that they weren't nice, it's just that I was always such a perfectionist with the girls I dated. Whenever I am with a girl, I am always thinking, man I could do better than this, just a little better.
When I saw her for the last time she looked terrible. Apparently she hadn't slept all night, and it showed. I almost felt bad for her. Almost. If I had any feeling left to give I suppose it would have been a sense of regret, maybe pity, but my energy for feeling had long since left me.

Have you ever looked at someone who looks like they have just been dealt an awful blow by life? Their body looks fine, and their face betrays nothing, but if you look into their eyes, that is when you see what is really going on. They eyes find it hard to lie. There is a deep emptiness in those eyes, like the person has given up on life. There body is still moving but their soul is dead. They have been beaten down so many times that they have lost all sense of feeling, all sense of caring. Most likely if you yourself were to take a baseball bat and beat them, they would hardly protest. They are tired, tired of living, tired of hearing bad news. Tired of being told they weren't good enough and they were behind on the rent. Tired of being trodden down by people who have been given more in life. Tired of always being a little bit too late.