i give you my heart.

insecurity.

in the end it wasn't my anger or my frustration that eventfully broke me. it was my incessant need to be perfect. 

fat, oh god that word disgusts me it's so repulsive and having to come to realize that that's exactly what I am makes me sick to my stomach.

i starve myself sometimes. no ones noticed. i find that to be exciting, its thrilling to know that maybe one day ill be skinny and people will eventually notice me. but then sometimes i think, what i never get skinny?

all my friends say im the most pretty person in the friend group but i cant help but think that they're lying out of pity. That they actually think im ugly but they dont say anything because they feel bad for me.

Im mean to anybody i deem better then me, which is pretty much everybody. im a bully ill admit that. im an asshole. i dont deserve to be alive.

self harm is something that i occasionally do, i only feel the need to hurt myself when im in a serious depressive mood. Ive been clean for a month or so. But i constantly think of how much i want to.

the thought of killing myself surprises me sometimes. ill be laying in bed staring at the ceiling and ill suddenly feel the need to die. Just to give up on life, what is the point of me living at this point?

In the end it doesn't matter how much i want to. I know that i have to keep living to keep the people who love me from being hurt.

I know it'll eventually eat away at me.
I've come to terms with the fact that

My insecuritys will be the death of me