i hate myself in that resigned sort of way that it gets to the point where you don't care about anything. you'd rather destroy yourself all the way than go and fix up all those tiny little cracks that need stitching.

i'm sorry that i run away from you every time you tell me you need me and i'm sorry that when i come back i pretend like it's never happened, as if you didn't spill your soul to me and i never selfishly shied away.

you deserve someone better than me to speak with, someone better equipped to deal with everything. you need someone who wants life about all else, who can find beauty in everything and make sure that you are happy and help you. because, though i wish so much that i could, wish i knew how, i can't discourage you.

i agree with you in that aspect. suicide seems like such a beautifully promising escape and even embarrassingly now, i crave it. that is why it is so frustratingly hard to find reasons for you not to.

i'm sorry love i really really am and i can't seem to be able to put this any other way.