Stop ******* blackmailing me with your life.  I can't love you the way you want me to. And if you even knew who i was, you wouldnt want me to.  You see the me you want to see me: perfect. you see the world the way you want to see the world: awful.  Im not perfect. the world isnt all bad.  And i cant cure you.  
If you say one more **** time that you need a girlfriend to be happy im going to lose it.  theres a reason doctors dont prescribe significant others. But buy yourself a ******* blow up doll if itll make you "happy." draw a face on your god ****** hand.  but dont you dare lay that hand on me.  
And if you tell me one more time that youre more broken than me, im actually going to prove you wrong by shattering right in front of you. This isnt a contest.  This isnt something you should be trying to "win."
I dont care if your life has been worse.  Its not my life thats broken, its me.  Maybe you dont get that.  maybe you dont get that i cant love you and false love wont cure you. im sorry. im so ******* sorry.
but stop dragging me into this.  
stop making me shake and throw up because you want me to tell you that youre allowed to **** yourself.  think about someone other than your ******* self for a change.  youre hurting me more than you think.  and you probably wouldnt even care if you knew because i still wont give you head.    
you wont let yourself be happy and that is your own ****** fault.  Im not going to pity you anymore because the more i learn who the real you is the more i realize that this has nothing to do with your life, or your relationship status, but it has everything to do with your inability to give a **** about anyone but your self.  im glad you care about your self.  i wish i cared about myself more.  but youre not the only one here thats struggling. youre not the only one here thats lonely. but youre the only one that can fix you.  people are temporary. you of all people should know that. so why the hell do you depend so much on others?  we all need people, this is true.  and im here for you. your sisters are here for you. your grandparents are here for you. kaine is here for you. but they cant cure you.  you wont let yourself be cured because you dont think its possible without a ******* your arm.
dont tell me that things will never be okay. youre only 16. do you really think you know everything? i know youve been through a lot but you havent let that teach you anything. you know how much youve made me cry because you want me to be the one to make you happy?  i need to work on myself before i can take on another construction project.  and really, fix your **** self.  im tired of trying.  i dont want you to die. i dont want you to hurt yourself.  but youre making me want to do both those things and **** it it can do that enough without your help thank you very much.

I told my doctor how when I get really upset I see clouds.
I told her that it looks like someone chain-smoked a whole pack of cigarettes in the time it took me to blink.
She told me she can't explain it.
She told me I need glasses.
I told her I need new medication, that these ones aren't working anymore.
She told me that I'm not letting them.

She told me that depression comes in waves.
And if I stop fighting them, they'll come and go with ease.  
She told me to build a raft.
I told her I don't know how.

I don't know how to tell her that I'm drowning.  
I don't know how to tell her that these "waves" have turned into rip tides and now I'm so far out that I'm lost at sea.  

Excuse me miss, but how do you build a raft when you're never on shore?

She told me I need to start exercising; I guess water aerobics aren't enough.
I told her that I can't breathe.
She told me I might have asthma.
I told her water must have filled my lungs.

I told her that I used to identify as the calm before the storm.
But now I'm a category 5 hurricane.
I told her I've got winds up to 250 mph.
But I still can't find air.

And I'm sorry, Miss Meteorologist, but land won't slow me down.

I told her that I have and will destroy everything in my path.
She told me that now that I've hit land, I can pick up the debris and build a raft.
I told her I'd try.

She told me hello and asked how my raft is coming along.
I told her that my craftsmanship is sub-par.
I told her that the clouds were back.
I told her that she's the reason I can't look at water without it running down my face.

The cereal and liquor occupy the same cabinet.
That's why I wasn't surprised when you told me that ***** would go well with my cheerios when we were out of milk.

We haven't had milk in months, but I can point you to the moonshine.
It might taste better if you dilute it with frosted flakes.

How does it taste to chase your whiskey with lucky charms?
Do you really feel lucky?

It's okay, I'll skip breakfast.
I'm not hungry anyways.

But don't worry about me.
I'll come down to join you for happy hour.