That feeling when you get mad at me, because I didn't do the thing, you didn't ask me to do, cause I can't read minds; I'm not your parent. That tone in your voice when you go off about how unfair the world is, triggered by the slightest setback. The feeling when I sacrifice all that I am for the sake of your mood and happiness, in vain. That sound of the exacerbated sigh when I ask you to run an errand, as if I am not also tired. The pressure of carrying us both on broken legs. The pit in my chest when I ask your opinion and you say "I don't care," but you actually do care, because whatever choice I make is laced in ridicule. When you say you're doing something for me but you're just trying to make yourself feel better about doing it for yourself. When you use my disorder as a justification or excuse, but when I actually need your help you seem burdened and annoyed. That "okay then" moment when I give you everything you ask for and you take it as if you never wanted it.
"If love is a labor, I'll slave till the end." -Rise Against
"these words are knives that often leave scars" - Panic! at the Disco