to the ones that love me.

I struggle in ways that I can’t put into words.

I wish I could, it would make it less frustrating when you reach out to help and I want it but don’t want it at the same time.
When I both want your presence but don’t
When I want your comfort but if you were to give it to me I’m convinced it’s pity.

Somedays I genuinely hate you.

Even though I love you.
Even though you’re the most important parts of my life.
Even though when I am upset and far away, all I do is miss you.
I hate you.

I become increasingly sick to the point where I’m finally stuck in bed.

Unable to feel anything for you.
Unable to feel anything for me,
Except well numb.

It’s as though my body and my mind have both shut down, yet register everything.

Every word,

Every reaction,

Every action,

And finds a way to detect how all of what you do means that you don’t really care,
You’re not really someone who loves me.

I’m sorry.

I really am.
I wished my actions actually went along with that,
I’m being a dick,
Leave me and rest.

To the ones that love me,
To the ones that care,
I am broken,
But I promise,

I’ll find my pieces and crawl back out to fresh air.



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