Would you still love me
Even if my heart is dark
And filled with sadness?
Tell me I’m wrong
That you genuinely do care
That I do matter
That you do want to see me
That you do want to spend time with me
That I’m not useless, meaningless
That I’m not a waste of a human being
That I am worth something, anything
That I shouldn’t let the waves hug me to sleep.
Why do we make ourselves suffer?
We can blame people all our lives for all our issues, but no one can hurt us more than ourselves.
We are our own destruction.
Sometimes I question whether or not I’m awake, alive. How did I get here? Why am I like this? When did life become so….shitty? Everything has become such a blur that I’m having a hard time distinguishing whether or not I’m even alive — that maybe I’m in a coma and this is all a figment of my imagination. Or maybe that I don’t even know that I’ve already passed and I’m just living in another dimension.
Could it be that I’m already dead and the reason why I keep suffering is because this is all punishment for I have sinned?
Fuck. What is wrong with me?
Once again I am left alone to indulge in my own misery.
Make it stop.
It’s strange how you can be so close to someone, and then the next day be so distant. So many people say they care, that they miss you and want to see you — but do they ever make the effort to actually go see you?
This is what we have become; an endless amount of empty promises.
It disgusts me.
I’m disgusted of myself.