Am I?

I completely gave up my gynormous pride and wrote to you first so you could jerk me around some more. I’ve always had a thing for the upper floor and the way I’ve been demeaning myself since I met you just confirms the fact that I am a bloody masochist.
I hate writing and writing hates me. I suck at it and I really hope that whoever reads this(if anyone) won’t feel like some nasty long nails are being dragged on a blackboard and if so, stop being such a bloody masochist too.
I should go to a shrink, I know. But this is way cheaper and it might throw back some hate instead of vague words meant to be considered treatment.
So back to you love. I told you I was working a night shift and you asked if I was working in the red light district of my town. Had no clue what was happening but apparently I was crying in the train while the other passengers where staring half accusing at me.sorry to disturb your peace folks but my ..something just called me a whore. So I started thinking. Yesterday I installed Tinder (for the third or forth time) and started chatting with stranger. I guess I wanted to feel better. Or wanted. Or anything to be honest. I have never met irl with a tinder match nor do I think I will. But I was crying today while you were saying those words and I am not sure if it’s because it came from you or because it’s true.
Am I?