I just can’t. I can’t go another day feeling like this. I can’t go another day just anticipating the pain, anticipating the crying, anticipating the breakdown. I can’t go another day getting hurt. I can’t go another day waiting for you to get tired of me because I’m crying for no reason.

Although for me there is a reason. Everything is a reason. You look at me the wrong way, it hurts. You answer the wrong way, it hurts. You aren’t hurt that it hurts me? It hurts. It must mean you don’t love me. It must mean you don’t want me around. But I know I’m wrong. I know you love me. But I also know you don’t. You love me and everything is okay, but you hate me because I’m broken. Because I’m a burden. Because I ruin everything. 

I wish knowing I was broken made it easier, but all it does is create a constant battle in my head. All it does is make me feel guilty. Because it shouldn’t hurt. But I can’t help it. All it does is make me hate myself even more. I never asked for any of this. Why should I fight these battles in my head just to be happy? Why can’t I just ignore these feelings? Why must I FUCKING ruin the thing I want most. 

Of course you don’t love me, because I make it impossible. But it’s okay because you do love me. But you don’t. My chest hurts. It feels like I can’t breathe. It feels heavy and tight but also empty and hallow. It’s nauseating. 

It’s not fair that I’m not a good person. I love you, but I don’t care about you. I don’t care about your feelings. At least it feels like that. I don’t think it’s true. Maybe it is. Maybe when the feeling in my chest takes over my entirety and I just want everything to go away. When it’s too much and all I can do it scream and cry because IT HURTS SO FUCKING MUCH. Maybe that’s when I don’t care. But it’s just a desperate attempt to make it go away. That’s all I want. I just want it to go away. But I don’t know how. So I resort to hurting those around me. 

But I don’t want to hurt anyone. But I do, and that makes it harder. Because now you love me less. Because now I hate myself more. Because now I have no one. And now there’s more pain. And now it’s taking over again. And now I hate myself even more. It’s never ending. I’m sorry. I really am. Although sometimes I’m not. But I really am. I didn’t ask to be like this. I don’t want to be like this. 

I wish knowing I’m wrong was enough. I wish hating myself was enough. It’s not. I can’t change. I don’t want to change, but all I want to do is change. I don’t know what to do. I just want you to hold me. I want you to tell me everything is okay. I want you to kiss my forehead until I stop crying. I want you to make me happy but it’s not your job. It’s mine. And that’s not fair. Because I’m weak. Because I’m fragile. Because I’m FUCKING broken. And it doesn’t get better. It’s never going to get better. It just gets worse and worse. Until you’re gone. And I don’t care. But I do.