I hate depression with a passion
I hate anxiety with a passion
I hate myself with a fucking passion.
It comes and goes,
I know it's hard to understand,
But it feels like something that can't be wiped out of my body,
It's something that's just apart of me,
Like gum?
I just need someone there when I crash.
I want you there.
But you're too busy shouting at a computer screen.
I don't want to say anything because you're happy screaming at that computer screen.
I'm scared to even interrupt you.
I don't know anymore.
Maybe I'm just frustrated at myself.
Who knows...
