Night time hurts.
Not because I am alone.
I am always alone in a sense.
No. Because at night I remember.
I remember all the time I wasted being depressed and anxious.
I remember all the bruises I’ve had to hide.
I remember how unloved I truly am.
But most of all I remember that I am broken.
And the harsh awareness of how broken you feel is the most painful thing of all.