I can’t.
I can’t take this,
I can’t feel good,
I won’t be good,
It’s never enough.

I jump in, and swim till I drown
I slice my wrists, I pour out the blood till I’m empty
I hold on till my fingers refuse to uncurl
I drive not only till the car runs out of gas, but piece by piece it begins to fall apart

just like me.
I’m falling apart, waiting for someone to piece me back together.
I gather the pieces myself, but my glue isn’t enough.
I need something stronger, I need to be someone stronger.

I want someone to tell me I’m enough. I want to feel needed.
I self-loathe, I self-pity, I hide behind a false sense of humor and confidence.
Underneath it all is nothing.
Complete, utter emptiness.
We say we’re empty, numb, but what does that mean?
We all feel, whether it be purely happiness or hurt, regardless of how numb.

Emptiness is not simply feeling nothing. It’s feeling as if you’re nothing.