It's not funny anymore,
How easily you can touch anyone except for me.
I feel like puking again. It happens every time
I touch myself and pretend it's your hands touching me.
I feel it all the time,
That immense disgust with myself,
To the point that I reach for relief again.
I find a sharp remedy.
I find it without you.
Relief. It's single.
Just. Like. Me.
