If we're being honest,
Not every day is a good one,
You can't make 'em all good,
Otherwise none would be good enough.

Sometimes you just can't fix a broken day,
You just have to take a deep breath and go to bed,
You've got all of tomorrow left.

You want to know what’s wrong?
Why I’m like this? Why I pull away?
Fine. Sit down.
Let me ******* tell you.

It’s my head.
My own head—the thing I live in every **** day—
it doesn’t stop tearing me apart.
It turns everything into a problem.
Twists every word you say into something worse.
Invents reasons why you’ll leave
before you even think about staying.

I ask myself, Did you mean that?
Were you lying? Are you tired of me?
And it’s not you—
it’s me and this brain that won’t shut the **** up.
It’s a riot in here.
Screaming, tearing things apart, burning everything down,
while you sit there, calm, like I’m losing my mind for no reason.

“Relax,” you said once.
“Stop overthinking.”
Yeah? Great advice. Thank you.
Let me just hit the imaginary off-switch in my head.
Oh wait—it doesn’t exist.

I replay everything.
Every second, every word,
every glance you gave me that felt half a beat too long.
And I know I’m being crazy,
but that doesn’t stop the noise.

I second-guess every feeling I’ve ever had—
every good thing we’ve built—
because the voice in my head says it won’t last.
It tells me you’ll leave,
and I believe it.

I always believe it.

And you know what ****** me off?
You think I do this for attention.
You think I’m dramatic.
You think I’m trying to hurt you.

No.
I’m trying to survive in here.
In a head that picks apart everything good
and turns it into poison.

I ruin things before they can ruin me.
I push you away because that’s easier
than waiting for you to walk out the door.

And I hate it.
I hate that I can’t trust anything real.
I hate that I doubt every time you tell me you care.
And I hate that deep down,
I’m always waiting for you to stop loving me.

Because no one ever stays.
And honestly?

If you were smart,
you’d run now, too.

Reflecting on the past is hard for me,
I don't really think I made it that far
I think I did pretty great with the task of being a better me,
But you miss the lust of years ago, don't say you don't.
Rather than being a boisterous beast.

You're only statistically better than you used to be.

People who claim they're evil are usually no worse than the rest of us. But it's those who claim to be good that can be the most deceiving and cunning.

Their acts of kindness and generosity, a veil they wear, Concealing the shadows lurking beneath, their true intentions unfair.

For in their hearts lies a darkness, carefully concealed, Hidden behind a mask of virtue, their true selves unrevealed.

They manipulate and deceive, with a smile upon their face, Using their supposed goodness, to take advantage and embrace.

@nolongerumano

i tell myself not to chide you child  
not to berate you into a convenient obedience
yet....

just last Monday eve
i told your voice that it was shrill   like a hurt bird
(that cuts a career as Singer out of your future)

just yesterday
i told you graphically and with crazed gestures
about the dangers of the open upstairs window
(a future fear of heights may well be on its way)

and i remember once
i told your body that society frowns upon ******
(that'll ensure future embarrassment  shame
and ****** awkwardness)

i chide myself now
   these practices must cease