"You'd make the prettiest flowers when your body rots into the ground," you said as I had another session of anxiety attacks. Self insecurity and stress are my parents, with depression and fear as my siblings. But I thought nothing about the cheesy line you used to distract me. That's all you can do now, distract me. You can't even help me anymore. You'd thought it would be easy right? Dating someone uncomfortable with their physicality and mentality. I'm sorry that it wasn't as easy as you thought. I knew the first time you fully looked at me, I knew when I heard your friends talk about it. Why do you think I gave you all those presents? I knew how much torture it was. One month, I gave you roses. Sorry for my fragility. Two months, chocolate. Sorry for not being so sweet anymore. Three months, a teddy bear. I'm sorry I'm so small and you cannot hold me. Four months, I give you a bracelet far too big for my weak little wrist. Five months, new shoes. I'm sorry you have to walk this never ending journey of despair. Six months, a hand made pillow. For all the nights I have kept you up with all my anxiety attacks. Seven months, protective sports gear. Just like you I need to cover myself completely. Eight months, money. To pay you back for all the times you've had to get my medical needs. Nine months, I gave you concert tickets. I apologize for not being able to entertain you because I'm so busy keeping my weight down. Ten months together and we take a trip to your favorite place. It's a way of me saying clear your mind here and sorry for all the times I've confused you. Eleven months pass by and you receive a tool kit, because I know you've given up on trying to build a stronger me. 12 months. Wow a year. Take a watch. I'm sorry you have to waste your time and watch me die. And you thought it was going to be fucking easy. Keep thinking that but know that you fucking asked for it.
