there are days where I sit and stare at myself in the mirror picking apart every little flaw, every extra roll and every bit that's not the right shape or colour and I think, almost religiously, that I am not good enough for you.
Becuase the truth is that I'm not.
You deserve sunshine and flowers on a summers day, not a work in progress as dull as a winters night.
I say this to you and you pull your lips together with a sad smile, look down at me say "But what if I prefer winter"
My boy that is not the point. All I do is make you worry and I wanna be your sunshine but I just don't think i can be that
yet
I'm a work in progress. Incomplete I was shattered just before we met and putting the pieces together is killing me
And the things we don't talk about things we shelve for a conversation in the future.
involves things that only "I love you" might be able to fix.
through everything recovery is hard and each and every day is a choice I need to make to be better and I'm not always strong enough to make that choice.
I just want you to understand my boy my lovely amazing perfect boy
that sometimes I don't eat and sometimes I want to die more than not that anxiety is a being that rocks me and sometimes I need the rush of pain from scrubbing hard at my skin or dragging a blade across it
it's not about you. it's not something your presence is going to necessarily fix
But i want to try for you. Maybe i can't be your sunshine but maybe i can be your cup of tea your jumper your girl wrapped up in your bed sheets on a cold winters night
you once said you had no problem helping me pick up my messes and if you stand by that