if i don’t talk about it, it won’t exist. if i don’t think about it, i won’t hurt anyone, and eventually i’ll stop being like this.
if i laugh loud enough. if i smile wide enough. if i colour-coordinate my outfits…
because i don’t deserve to express symptoms of mental illness. i don’t deserve to take up your time. i don’t deserve to feel alive, except for from 9pm to midnight.
i don’t deserve the look you get in your eyes. like maybe you actually think i’m gonna do something in my life. i don’t deserve the followers, or the friends, or the nice comments, or the likes. and i’m sorry for letting on like i was someone i wasn’t, all right?
this must be a mistake. i don’t think you get it. i’m just a person. and i’m kind of falling apart at the moment. and i can’t comprehend how anyone could possibly see this mess of a mind in all its honesty and still think i’m worth it.
i mean. i couldn’t.
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