Dependent, well that was never a word i would’ve used to describe myself 

heavily reliant on another person to make them happy, feel fulffilled and pound away the overwhelming notion of hopelessness engraved into their bones

yep, definitely not me

id rather settle with calling them a distraction instead of admitting that i, who depicts myself as a nonchalant, unfeeling ***** that doesn’t give a **** actually gives a ****

narcissistic much? yep 

happiness, i wish i could call that my goal.
maybe when i was eleven and still held the belief that everything ends up perfect as long as you turn in your homework and dress nicely 

ah, simpler times

now days i only accomplish that so i can motivate myself to keep trying on a daily basis 

even writing seems like a chore that i don’t want to bring myself to finish anymore

getting through the day without repeatedly slamming my head into a wall in order to block out the numbness is my version of happiness now

i wish i could pinpoint when it became like this

my therapist tells me to find what triggers these feelings and once i do to squash them before they can mess with my head

i don’t know how to tell her that there is no trigger, i can’t kick them out when they’ve made me into their home 

i know how it feels to be left behind and i would never put them through that

i decide against telling her I’ve personified my depression now

this is sam, he’s always there to give me a helping hand back into bed when i look in the mirror and don’t want to face myself

this is melody, she’s always there singing soothing tunes to lure me into a spiraling fit of paranoid self hatred 

this is luke, he’s my guardian angel, always following me around making sure to bring me back down to earth whenever i get too happy

I’m grateful for them, i really am.
always involved in my life making sure not to miss anything that happens to me, no matter how big or small

which leaves me to wonder if I’m the one that has pushed all my real friends away, by only ever focusing on my fake ones

not ready to face that yet so ill leave that in the “denial” section of my brain, which is overflowing by the minute

the thing about this sadness, is that I’m not sure who i would be without it

with it goes my sense of identity and I’m not ready to have a one on one session with my real, gritty self because I’m afraid i won’t like what i find

fear, isn’t that what binds us all?

keeps us from leaving people, keeps us from staying with them

dependability, often i tell myself that if i were to live all by my lonesome in alaska with nothing but the sound of wind and smell of the forest i would be content

dependability, being able to be alone is something i pride myself on

dependability, with only my thoughts to keep me company id probably stab myself repeatedly 
dependability, i can’t depend on myself so i have to find someone i can

dependability, the sad truth