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pick yourself up, k. you don't need anybody.

pick yourself up. no one will truly love you.

pick yourself up. your weakness is sickening.

pick yourself up. you're pathetic.

how easily it descends into this.

save your judgements. save your disappointment. walk away from me, push me away until i'm "fun" again, till i'm not so "draining" and "exhausting" because my needs suddenly appear. as they do, for a brief period every month. count yourself as one of the lucky ones. some people lived with me through this. some fed into it, then kept kicking me while i was down. you wouldn't want to do that, would you? you're above that, right? how else can you explain your superiority to my broken self?

you break, too. you bend. do i say that it's too hard for me to deal with? that i don't have the energy? that i need to surround myself with pure positivity? do you really have to ask me to be there?

i'm supposed to "speak up". what's that? you're not expressing your vulnerabilities LOUD ENOUGH, k. my shrink is deaf; i have to repeat my secrets, my shames, over and over again, increasing in volume and decreasing in affect, until things like "I FEEL LIKE EVERYWHERE I TURN, I DISAPPOINT PEOPLE AND CAN'T DO ANYTHING RIGHT" come out. is this part of the therapy? that thing you do when you're high, say words over and over again until they aren't words anymore...am i supposed to repeat these weaknesses over and over again until they mean nothing? it's like linguistic lobotomies to leave me with a stupid, drool-covered smile across my face because nothing hurts anymore, nothing is real.

fuck this shit. for now, at least.