I didn't want to see anyone. I would lie in my bedroom with the curtains drawn and nothingness washing over me like a sluggish wave. Whatever was happening to me was my own fault. I had done something wrong, something so huge I couldn't see it, something that was drowning me. I was inadequate and stupid, without worth. I mind as well have been dead.
Letter to the Lost.
YOU ARE READING
"Dear Past Me, I'm Sorry.."
De Todo...for failing you. Just a bunch of poems and quotes, some are mine some aren't. I'll lyk which is which (tw: contains depictions of suicide and depression.)
