I swear, no matter what I do I still end up fucking up my relationships and friendships with other people.
—  Why the hell do they keep giving me more chances?….I wouldn’t.

Baby I’m sorry.
I’m sorry I’m so fat
I’m sorry I’m so ugly.
I’m sorry I hardly talk to you
I’m sorry I hardly stay happy.

And on that note,
Baby I’m sorry.
I’m sorry I’m so sad
I’m sorry I’m so angry.
I’m sorry I’m so alone
I’m sorry I’m so difficult.
I’m sorry I push you away.

I’m sorry I find it difficult to tell you,
How much you mean to me
I’m sorry I find it difficult to be myself,
How I want to be around you
I’m sorry I find it difficult to show you,
How much I need you

I’m sorry I’m annoying
I’m sorry I can’t write poetry
I’m sorry I can’t speak other languages,
I’m sorry I can’t say broccoli properly
I’m sorry I can’t do forward roles -
Or backward rolls for that matter.
I’m sorry I’m nothing special, in fact,
I’m sorry I’m nothing at all.

I’m sorry I’m a mistake
I’m sorry I’m a bother
I’m sorry I’m a mess
I’m sorry I’m a pain
I’m sorry I’m alive
I’m just so sorry

I’m so sorry I’m so needy
I’m so sorry I’m so pathetic
I’m so sorry I’m still here.

I’m sorry.

—  10:37pm
Whenever Things Seem To Be Getting Better
  • Me: Wow, I'm actually happy.
  • My Brain: ha! No you aren't
  • Me: What do you mean?
  • My Brain: Here are memories of all the things that you fucked up. Oh! Don't forget about the people that used to be a big part of your life but aren't anymore!
  • Me: ........oh yeah........
Do you ever just get scared for no reason?.. It’s like you know something bad is about to happen but you don’t know what and that just makes you even more terrified.
—  Anxiety // I’m.not.living.im.surviving on ig
I don’t mean to make you worry.
I’m just searching for something to feel.
And if that means lacing my blood and
My mind with toxicity,
And wandering the roads till 5 am,
Or kissing strangers and trusting anyone.
Well that’s on me then.
Maybe there’s a better way, a safer way.
But here’s the thing-
I don’t care enough to find it anymore.
—  Mish. (Harmfulthinking)
Maybe it wasn’t meant to be. Maybe, in the future, we’ll still find our way back to each other. Maybe you still love me. All I know for sure is that I fucking miss you.
I don’t even recognize myself anymore. When did my eyes become so hollow? When did they lose their spark of joy? When did this permanent frown become glued to my face? When did my dimples disappear? When did my cheeks lose their fullness?
—  When did it all fall apart?