Sorry, the doubt gets so consuming that I forget. Sometimes when you're sitting next to me holding my hand I still question it. I guess it's just something I have to get used to. I'm not used to people feeling things like that about me. I'm annoying and hideous and a bit of an ass hole at times. I don't know how you look at me and claim to not see what I see. But that's my anxiety and self hatred and self awareness picking on me. I'm a hypocrite. Calling myself trash while yelling at you that you aren't trash. I think I even annoy you with how much I call myself annoying while you argue with me that I'm not annoying. (I am obvioisly.) Oh, the irony. I'd love to travel with you and not be here with all of them. Or to be able to leave my worries behind me and not question what you feel constantly. No matter how much you tell me that you love me. Even the voices are assholes. I can tell that you care, and I honestly want to except that you care but it just won't let me.
I guess you'll just have to keep trying to convince me until it finally stops trying to tell me otherwise.
(*hint-hint-nudge-nudge*)
Sorry. I is weird.
YOU ARE READING
Depression Is My Kryptonite
PuisiA jumble of extremely depressing poems written by me. And ramblings that feature mood swings every other second. Oh well.
