He’s nothing like me. He has all the qualities I wish I had. 

He doesn’t need me to feel alive. He’s not sad if I disappear. He doesn’t attatch to people like I do. I am replaceable. I am just someone passing through his life. I am of no importance. 

He’s happy. He doesn’t think too much. He’s not terrorized by constant intrusive thoughts about me. 

He can appreaciate the small things in life. He wants to do things. He doesn’t hate himself as a person, nor his appearance. He actually loves himself. 

He doesn’t spend his days fantasizing about death. It hasn’t even crossed his mind. He enjoys life. He loves life. 

I wish I could be more like him. That I wasn’t so desperate to escape myself. I just want to feel like I matter.