I can't tell you how much I miss you.

And I feel awful because you'll never miss me.

You broke my heart, and maybe it's my fault for not noticing sooner.

Or it's my fault that I let you do it.

I didn't think I was doing anything wrong, but I did.

And you didn't say anything but that you were able to excuse my character.

I guess I deserve that.

I'm not myself.

I don't like change.

I make no progress.

Self?


Self image?


Self worth?

What even are those things?