misery, loves. company?
i feel am terrible.
i have to stop being so careless when it comes to other people's emotions.
i hate that i am always hurting someone.
guilt gnaws; it feels almost good. satisfying.
like i deserve it.
fake edit: sometimes i mean to. and that's the worst part; i hate thinking that everyone is always going to forgive me and that i'll always be offered a second chance because i feel so restless and i'm messy with heartbreak and i hurt people intentionally. and sometimes i mean to because i need to and i wonder why i think i need something like that. maybe it's the feeling of your soul being compressed into the little bit of space that is left for it. sometimes i feel like that, like every day i take fewer breaths until there won't be any air left at all, and i keep thinking, next year, next year, that isn't real and none of this is going to change unless i change it. i can't even describe it, it's like everything wells up inside of you and you start to feel numb because the second you let yourself feel anything else - i start trembling because i can't talk and it's no use to write and the shaking has to come out someplace. i could never sit still anyway.
i need to get beyond that whole psychotic 'i like them so much that i can't allow myself to' thing. and shying away from everything good.
i can't know what i want because i don't know what i'm afraid of.
fuck, this isn't even making sense anymore.
i have to stop being so careless when it comes to other people's emotions.
i hate that i am always hurting someone.
guilt gnaws; it feels almost good. satisfying.
like i deserve it.
fake edit: sometimes i mean to. and that's the worst part; i hate thinking that everyone is always going to forgive me and that i'll always be offered a second chance because i feel so restless and i'm messy with heartbreak and i hurt people intentionally. and sometimes i mean to because i need to and i wonder why i think i need something like that. maybe it's the feeling of your soul being compressed into the little bit of space that is left for it. sometimes i feel like that, like every day i take fewer breaths until there won't be any air left at all, and i keep thinking, next year, next year, that isn't real and none of this is going to change unless i change it. i can't even describe it, it's like everything wells up inside of you and you start to feel numb because the second you let yourself feel anything else - i start trembling because i can't talk and it's no use to write and the shaking has to come out someplace. i could never sit still anyway.
i need to get beyond that whole psychotic 'i like them so much that i can't allow myself to' thing. and shying away from everything good.
i can't know what i want because i don't know what i'm afraid of.
fuck, this isn't even making sense anymore.