When the newness and excitement of our infatuation kept us both in up states. When we could pretend we were mentally stable. Before everything came crashing down. I can't stop rubber banding. Pushing you away and trying to pull you back. This so toxic. Every day is a step backwards. Every conversation is both the best thing and the hardest thing. I want you here. I want you gone. 

I don't even know if I actually loved you or if that was just my mental illness. Have I actually loved anyone? I was supposed to get married once. Was that built on lies and mental illness too? 

I'm a mess. Why do you insist on pushing through. I'm not worth it. I hurt you over and over and that's not going to change. What little good there is can't actually be worth it, right? What do you possibly get from this. Why do you choose me? There's so many better people. Choose them. For your own sake. 