I can't sleep without you. My dreams are filled with pain. I remember too much of what I've seen and felt, And in the morning all I remember is pain and fear.
On bad days, I can't stand to see You giving more of your attention To someone else.
And even though I know it's a fallacy Created by my mind's illnesses, My brain immediately jumps to It's because they're prettier than you. It's because she's more confident. It's because you're not making the same kind of progress as she would be.
And on good days, and then out of spite on bad days, I want to tell you, softly, "Please stop trying to fix me. I'm not broken."
But the sad truth is, I am. But you still can't fix me. I don't want you to. That's my job.
I used to think I was a bad person. Because I am jealous. And I am insecure, And spiteful And snarky And cold.
But I am not bad. Yes, I am jealous. I am insecure. I am spiteful. I am sarcastic. And I am withdrawn.
But I'm also warm to those you need it, And I have compassion that goes on for days. I'm good at holding my tongue, And I would never actually hurt someone, Unless it was somehow to protect them.
There's not much to like about me. But I've found some of it.