dear darling diary,

nothing makes any sense to me whenever i say it out loud.
and do you think i'll ever get better?
do you know if it's even allowed?
and do you know what i told her?
i said,
"yeah,
you can try and take this weight off my chest,
but i've lived with it for so long that i'd just go out in search of it again."
do you know what i mean?
i can be a husk, or i can be nothing
but no matter what, i always feel muted. quieter. dark.
i always feel like i've been treading water for a very long time and now my legs are sore
but if i stop, then i'll drown
so what am i meant to do?
i feel ashamed of not being happy enough
so i wear a smile everyday
but i hate carving it into my face
what is wrong with me?
why can't i feel things the way everyone else does?
why am i so detached from my own sense of self?
as a child, i was abused.
i was neglected emotionally, physically, mentally
so i learned to satisfy my own needs for just about everything
but i still never learned to let someone close.
close enough to burn
to scar
close enough to take these keys and drive my heart.
and why?
why can't i just forget what happened?
why can't i let it all go?
i pick my scabs,
every single one
i bleed, and i'll never heal
and it's all my own **** fault.