I am fucked up. I am pathetic.

None of this is a problem for normal people, but I am not normal.

They were right, the only people who will ever be around me are the people who don't care, who wouldn't be hurt by my actions because why would they care what a insect like me thinks or does?

But even the thought of going back reveals what a piece of shit I am that I would be willing to throw away everything my partner gave me.

Years of empathy, discarded solely because I am so absolutely pathetic that I need someone to hate me to feel loved.

She deserves so much better than me.

At least there, the pain was relieving. It was comfortable. It was a transaction I paid for the ability to be free. It made my broken mind feel genuinely loved, wanted, cared for.

It was real. It was tangible. It was true.

It wasn't this vast void of empty words backed on a faltering illusion.

And I still believe it.

But it was still better, easier, less harrowing to have my life hanging on the razor's edge of my own broken grip of sanity, forcing myself to function when every part of me is collapsing, living in constant fear for when the façade falls apart and I am abandoned again.

All I can do is hide it, repress it, act like it doesn't exist while I have a emotional cancer metastasizing in my body growing and growing until it all retches out of my esophagus for everyone to see and shun me over, again and again, and I just repeat the cycle for someone else who doesn't see it.

You think I can change this? You think I could just magically not have crippling anxiety? That I can just turn off my trauma? That I can just be fixed? You think I choose to be this way, afraid of every person I see? Distrusting of every person in my life?

I didn't choose this.

Do you know what it's like to spend every day holding back a dam of showing your anxiety, feeling like you're dying and pretending to be fine, knowing that if even one bit of it bursts, everyone will fucking hate you?

I hate this I hate this I hate this I hate this.

"Why are you so fucked up?"

It all just repeats and repeats and repeats.

I spent my entire life suppressing so much of this pain, but it always comes out, it's always there on the brink of ruining my relationships.

I don't have any interest in 'kind words' and 'reassurance'. I'm not paying you to be my therapist, and I would be suspicious of you and discount anything you said anyway, so don't bother. This isn't the account for me making friends.

If I see you following me from my main, you're blocked.

I'm here to scream into the void of all the things that I have to internally repress every single fucking day of my life so I can pretend to be sane and functional, because otherwise I'd lose the few friends I have.