Monday, May 12, 2014

written sometime in 2010

Sometimes I still hate me.

Sometimes I still want to cut.

Sometimes I still feel like I'm fundamentally flawed, too flawed and too damaged to ever be happy, to ever make anyone else happy.

Sometimes I still think the only way to redeem my existence is to destroy it, to burn myself out trying to make something better.

Sometimes I still hate the feel of my own heartbeat, hate the sense of space I occupy, wish I could tear off my skin and disappear.

No comments:

Post a Comment