maybe i should stop pretending i don’t know the consequences of my actions before i commit to them. i should stop making stupid decisions like i'm a morally grey character in a book with a shit ending. i do hurtful things in the name of romance, i do reckless things in the name of "this would make a really great addition to the plot!" why do i keep putting myself through hell? for a good story to tell? for the relief of crawling my way out of these pits i dig myself into? pointless. it always ends the same way. stuck at the bottom of this bottomless pit. it ends with me getting hurt, looking for loopholes to fix the hurt and finding none. with me batting my eyelashes in response to the damage i've done. no more. i'm not doing anything anymore.

what little empathy i thought the world had left for me is gone. i know why now. i don't deserve to be saved from myself. i don't deserve to be let off the hook. you told me to forgive myself. i can't. not when i keep taking the wrong path. not when these unfixable things are only broken by stupid grand gestures, by stupid letters and stupid pictures and stupid songs and stupid words. it's all stupid. fucking stupid. what have i gained from my own stupidity. from painting pictures of my brain and hanging them on the wall. nothing. these pictures are ugly. smudges of contradiction and anger. i can't unscramble my own self-loathing, untangle this clumpy mess of terror and yearning. so why do i keep giving up, handing it over to other people, asking them to do it for me. it shouldn't come as a shock to me that you don't want my friendship anymore, that none of them do. i'm too tangled. i'm unsolvable. you've clawed your way through the wires and string, crawled through spaces between the traps i keep setting. i wouldn't wanna go back in there either.