I think that’s just how I am happiest, when being used and abused. 
It fulfills something in me. The dark part of me. It’s twisted and unhealthy and I’m aware that my mentality needs to change but this is my natural state. 
This is how I feel. 
I know I only feel this way because of my trauma, but at the end of the day that’s my reality. 
I like being the home for a broken person, I like trying to help them out of their darkness while pushing myself deeper into my own. I can’t be alone. I can’t. It’s only a matter of time before I snap and do something I can feel it. Not necessarily killing myself, but something destructive…something that will bite me in the ass later on. 
I can’t do therapy. It doesn’t ducking work for me. I’m doomed when I’m alone. 

It’s funny because I was a content loner before my relationship, but now that I had what I believe to be my first favourite person, being alone feels like hell on earth.