Cursed To Live

Confession

I think about death more than I should
I think about dying just as much
I'm annoying and needy I realize
So I silence my problems and vent to myself
Only I can deal with me
And sometimes that's fine
And other times my lonliness is reassured that it can stay with me longer
I know people care but it must come with limitations because I only know for sure when my life is close to ending or my insanity has shown it's ass.

I fight to love myself but its almost pointless
No one will ever match the love I'm capable of and that saddens me
As well as hardens my heart
Increases the amount of walls
And its already an unending maze to get close

I'm convinced marriage isn't for me
The man who deemed me worthy of anything pass and engagement doesn't live in this lifetime.

My bad days are starting to outweigh the good
And I don't give a single fuck

I think I'm dying physically
And what poetic justice for my own body to be sick of my shit
So sick of me not knowing how to rise above all this
To be so old
I'm a late bloomer on finding myself and loving myself so this hell is different

I was different and I was stronger back then
When did I become this weak thing holding on by this thread of will?

I confess to not wanting to die but not doing a damn thing to stop it.