i pretend not to notice the sudden lack of responses, the lack of mutuality, the lack of [insert here].
i just told myself you were busy.
but i can't take it anymore.

i'm losing my mind with every breath i take, and every tear that falls down my cheek taunts me for allowing you, a human, to dictate too much of my happiness.

i'm always seen as mean when i say i don't want to befriend anyone else.
i don't want to waste my time becoming anyone else's option, when i deserve to be a priority.

is that too much to ask?

when you're like me
you decide to wait everyone out, and fall asleep way too late for anyone's good state of health.

let me specify what being like me is
you going down the rabbit hole of being paranoid and nostalgic all the time because for some reason that is the only way you'll allow yourself to be.

today you've shut your mother out, said mean things, and now she's worried. ...great

so, as you cry and try to wrap your arms around yourself you realize how no one really is concerned for you if they can help it.
your thoughts would terrify your friends, make them question who you were, as if you knew who that is.

somehow though we manage to calm ourselves enough to go to bed, because I mean we never wanted to be awake anyways.

a girl buries herself in her knees once she saw her reflection in the tiny mirror from her purse.
she's grown to hate herself night by night.
pieces of her slowly eroding away at the coastline's rocks that is her self esteem, and any kind of self respect taken from her.
she hates it all.
the curl of her hair.
the thickness of her thighs.
her brown, simple eyes
she despises it, exactly like she's been taught to.
sits in a corner of the box that is her room, in the dark wishing the night would never end, so she'd never have to face herself again.

oh this is where you say to give her the world, but she is the world.
she is exhausted, and taken advantage of.
resources robbed of.
threatened but didn't do a **** thing.
her natural qualities seen as a cancer.

and although, you feel bad for her, that won't change a thing will it?
you'll still use her like the tool you see her as, and enjoy your precious short time alive.
it's not like it's going to impact you right?

it's the type of secret that isn't yours to tell.
you know?
but oh how i wish to feel less alone.
it's just me and this secret i stumbled upon,
and it's trapped me in this perpetual state of processing.
it's not mine to tell,
but it lingers on the tip of my tongue,
waiting for me to betray it...
and betray you.

Here's something
You know you're truly messed up when you're self aware, but "too deep" as you tell yourself.

You're so deep that you can't even force yourself to feel bad.

You can't force yourself to care.

My worst fear is to be too afraid to look in the mirror.

And here I am shaking as I don't want to look in the light at my endless sins.

Still, I can't force myself to care just even a little bit to change.