(no subject)
Why do I go back and look at this shit?!
Why do I keep reading when I know it's only going to make me feel terrible?
Why do I LIKE making myself miserable?
It's like, returning to the scene of the crime or something.
This morbid curiosity that consumes me, makes me want to see you writhing in agony, makes me want to reach out and touch you and hold you and make it all go away and say I'm sorry and love you and never hurt you ever again.
WHY!
never gonna happen
Why do I keep reading when I know it's only going to make me feel terrible?
Why do I LIKE making myself miserable?
It's like, returning to the scene of the crime or something.
This morbid curiosity that consumes me, makes me want to see you writhing in agony, makes me want to reach out and touch you and hold you and make it all go away and say I'm sorry and love you and never hurt you ever again.
WHY!
never gonna happen