so incredibly lonely just deep down to the core so incredibly lonely

my entire life i've been somewhere between a 6-10 and apparently that is not normal

people are really, really tired of me at this point. i am trying so fucking hard, and it's starting to work, but i still need support and help in the meantime

I will never not love you.

he’s an extension of myself. he is a part of me, never won’t be.

I know you can't recover for other people but goddamnit I wish you could see how hard I'm trying

overwhelming

it feels heavy, heavy. i am made with no mistakes. i am pure divine intervention. i get what i need when i need it and never anything more. weighted corner to corner, but floating in the middle. it feels like an exponential rise. 

i hope you will not remember me bitterly. i hope you will not find me a waste of your time. i hope you don’t look back on the things given and regret. 

though, i understand if you do. there is no blame anymore.

i know you might see this, and i guess that’s okay. but i should have known since the stairwell thirteen years ago that you would leave.

“that’s your own fault.”

you weren’t wrong, but it was such a cruel thing to say. i’m not mad, i understand why you said it. not because i’m too much, but because you couldn’t be enough. that’s no one’s fault. i thought there was a match, and there’s no worse way to find out than to try. so we tried, for fifteen years. it’s rough, but it was honest. 

you’ve taken enough.

too wise for all my hours. aching too much for all my days. the ache is swallowing me whole, and, well, i’m afraid. i’m scared i’ll never come back to who i am. 

but i know it’s been hard on you, i know it feels like a waste. the way i abused your care. i could try to love you less, but that feels like an insult. 

the air is dry, it stings with the liberation of words from your lips. 

“a crutch is fine.”

so i hobble along, hampered by the helping of a wound or two, a bar or two. it can’t hurt any more than anything else, right?