I don't know what to think. I'm sure you're sick of reading that. I don't know anything. I feel like shit. My life hates me. I am a broken person. I have never understood what 'heartbroken' meant before now. My heart has sunk, it is in my throat when I want to speak, and it is perpetually being ripped apart. I have never understood that before now. I have worked very hard to hide my emotions. I thrive in detachment. I haven't cried in years. But now I can't do anything without feeling right on the verge. How is it possible to keep letting the same thing hurt so much? I accept that I'm unwanted. Do I really have to rub my face in it? I mean seriously. I care so much. I can't imagine life without beauty. And in the words of Modest Mouse: "If life's not beautiful without the pain, well then I'd rather never ever even see beauty again." Except I don't care. I don't ever want to give it up. I would die a thousand painful deaths. Or suffer slow torture for the chance. The chance I can't have. The chance I gave up on getting. But it's still about the chance, apparently. I've been trying to avoid words like disappointment, but that's what this is becoming. More than wanting to be held, I just want to exist. Deny me that too. Please, I love being dirt.
So now I look to you. My beautiful friend. My only hope. My stranger. Who are you? Can I get to know you better? Will you care about me as much as I care about you? Fuck. I don't know what I'm saying. I'm sorry, my stranger, because I know that this is repetitive and shitty. I want someone to talk to. And here you are, and you don't even blame me for anything. Tell me, who are you?
You came to me. Always remember that. And now it is my turn. Can I come to you?
Fuck you. Fuck me. Fuck us all. This life's only temporary anyways. Why would we spoil it with sharing or good things. I feel fucking ridiculous for ever caring, yet that's what I still do. It hurts me more than all of your rejections to hear you say you don't care. Because I still do. More than ever I do.
So now I look to you. My beautiful friend. My only hope. My stranger. Who are you? Can I get to know you better? Will you care about me as much as I care about you? Fuck. I don't know what I'm saying. I'm sorry, my stranger, because I know that this is repetitive and shitty. I want someone to talk to. And here you are, and you don't even blame me for anything. Tell me, who are you?
You came to me. Always remember that. And now it is my turn. Can I come to you?
Fuck you. Fuck me. Fuck us all. This life's only temporary anyways. Why would we spoil it with sharing or good things. I feel fucking ridiculous for ever caring, yet that's what I still do. It hurts me more than all of your rejections to hear you say you don't care. Because I still do. More than ever I do.
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You say that your life hates you, and that all of this sucks very badly, but you're only looking at ONE thing in your life. One small thing. You are 19, and you have soooo much more ahead of you. You have so much more than this to be thankful for. Your family has money. You are going to school. You are attractive. You have people that care about you.
ReplyDeleteYou're fucking 19 years old. When you look back on this you're going to regret not enjoying everything because you were too sad about something that you might not even have control over.
Everybody is a broken person. We are a fallen people walking through a fallen world. You are not on drugs. You are not stupid. You are not broke. When IIII see you, I do not see a "broken" person.