Bleeding No. 5

I should write, I know. But like all things in my life, I just keep putting off and putting off. In a day, I will have done this, in a week, in a month, and then, I'll talk about it then. It's a good job other people are in my life cause I would never do things simply for myself. I would keep putting off, longer and longer...until nothing.

I am so fucking afraid. I am so fucking selfishly unselfish. And I am a liar now. Everything I say is caution, is temporary. I will always love you, but every second is this huge event. Will this be the last time? Will there be a last time? Nothing happened, so I have done nothing. And I am waiting for it to happen. For there to be a good time, a better time. But there is no time but now. And I am ticking through it a liar.

I hate me so much more today than I did yesterday. I hate being this way. I hate not being able to turn it off, be pragmatic, logical. I hate making promises I couldn't keep. I hate that I am everything, and I have been nothing. And in the end, it doesn't matter. I will never be okay again. I didn't think it was possible, but I will never go through anything worse than this. And I will never think that I deserve, again.

I will never be with you. I will never be whole. I will never be happy. I will never be a good person. I will never be okay again.

And nothing anyone says can change that.

So, don't say anything. I deserve this pain. I deserve more pain, the worst pain. I deserve to have my heart broken everyday because I didn't do this right. Because I am callous. Because I am a liar. Because I am so disgustingly low. I hate. I hate so much. I am so repulsed.

I was on the plane, after everything happened, and I wished that it would just go down. Some fucking barren corn field and just no more. I think he could forgive me then. I think that he could go on then. I think that he could endure, be happy even. I am making him feel worth less; I am saying it's not enough. Who the fuck am I?