Depression has reduced me to a stubborn vending machine, spitting out your affection as if it were a wrinkly five dollar bill
Self-loathing shields me from your compliments, barely any leave a mark on me
Anxiety makes me question your motives,
as if you have something to gain from lying to me
Loneliness makes me crave your attention but doubt makes me reject it
It's not that you aren't giving me enough love,
it's that I'm too broken to accept it
Nov 29, 2013
Nov 29, 2013 at 9:32 AM UTC
Depression has reduced me to a stubborn vending machine, spitting out your affection as if it were a wrinkly five dollar bill
Self-loathing shields me from your compliments, barely any leave a mark on me
Anxiety makes me question your motives,
as if you have something to gain from lying to me
Loneliness makes me crave your attention but doubt makes me reject it
It's not that you aren't giving me enough love,
it's that I'm too broken to accept it
Having a bad decade
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