Confessions

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Non-Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
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Submitted: August 03, 2016

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Submitted: August 03, 2016

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Confessions

They demanded and begged and Cried So I gave and gave and gave But now that there's nothing left, Now that there isn't a soul Behind this smile, Now that it's all I can do to get Out of bed in the morning, No one's here. Not the ones who I'd call "friends" , Not the ones who are supposed To take care of me, Not those who I consider family. Maybe it's because I can't let Them in. Maybe it's because I'm "OK" or Too stubborn. But I am so close to giving up And I need someone who will Catch me when I fall. So I look around and I see no one Who is capable of making me feel OK again.

I'm angry. Not at you or the world in particular. But at me. I do this to myself every fucking time And expect good things to happen. But it's more than that. I'm tired. Not physically, But mentally and emotionally. I'm that sick, dripping with hurt And carelessness tired And I hope to god one day you get to see What I'm talking about. I don't want you to have to experience this, Because it's too much. I can barely get out of bed in the morning and some days I don't have the willpower To make my life work. And then I'm expected to be fine. Great even. I'm not. I'm not even OK, so why would you expect me to be great? But I guess that's what happens when you don't open up. Even though I've tried, I'm called ungrateful or careless. I want to care, but I can't. That's just beyond my capabilities.

Today, I had a rude awakening. I'm not enough. I'm never enough, Nor will I ever be. I've gotten used to it. It's OK. Rejection stinks. But even if he liked me, I would still have trouble Finding a way to let him in. It's just another fucked up Personality trait my Mother helped me obtain.

They expect me to be perfect all the time. I'm not and I'm sick of fucking acting like it. Sometimes I don't want to live because I have to see another day of this bullshit. I've considered suicide. Everything's just gone to hell since he left. "That's not gold material", they say; "Be nice", they say. To hell with that If I lose my dignity over the little bit of mental stability I have left, it will be so worth it.

"He left because of you" My demons say Nothing good ever comes to me It seems all I do is fuck everything up And leave more problems I just wish this would end I'll be alone for the rest of my life With no friends or family Because my depressive disposition discouraged them "I'm stifling", they say After I listened to their problems If I do say so myself, they pushed all of their depression and problems onto me And here I am, all by myself, because they can't be bothered with my "depressing attitude"


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