why should i think i’m still allowed to believe in myself after all that i’ve done? after all i’ve thought and said and been, why should i think i still deserve to be heard. what is there to hear. i’m stumbling between days and showing up too late and spinning, and there’s parts of me that aren’t here anymore. i churn out half-assed work, use more brain space to hate myself than to actually do anything useful. i shut out anyone who gives a shit, let them continue to care anyways. why do i yank them close and shove them away, over and over, twisting them and cracking them and shaking them around like glow sticks.

i don’t need you, i don’t. but please, please save me. i need you close to me, i’ll never let you get there. what if you end up like they did? wrinkled and frayed, torn to shreds, pulled to bare threads and stitches. i’m hurting, i’ll hurt you. i’m sorry. don’t leave. please stay, and hear me, and help me heal me from all that’s passed. i’ll change, i’m changing, i promise i’m changing. don’t ever believe i really will. i hate myself too much to find peace. forgive me. you shouldn’t. i’m bad and i’m broken. i’ll always be like this. i’m not the things i’ve done, don't think i'm the things i've done. don’t think i won’t do them again. i want to change, i never do. they always leave. you will too.

i hate this brain. who is my perspective for? why should i let you listen? how do you know you’re not next.