baby, i'm just a bad person.

"I just had to come home and tell you how much I respect you. Nothing was your fault. You are prefect. You have the perfect... everything out of anyone I've ever met. If nothing else, if you don't believe that I love you, please know that all your work, every word, meant something to me. You're the first person to actually care about me and if I would have let you in we could've been great, but I'm scared and a bad person. God, I hate myself, everything I hated when I was little I've become, every way that I was hurt I've done to everyone that's even come close to me. I'm so sorry, you don't deserve that. I know what it's like to be small and to trust someone and for them to hurt you. I know what it's like to feel small. I know what it's like to feel used. I used to hate my parents and swear that I'd never be like them, and here I am, but I'm worse because I'm all of them combined into one! Baby, nothing was your fault, you're perfect. You're perfect! I can't believe I've done all these things to you, I made you feel like you're nothing. Remember when we first started talking and you'd go off about all this stupid shit - stuff I didn't give a shit about, like how beautiful everything was. I used to see that, I used to see color, and it was taken away from me, and now I've taken it from you. What if you never love because of the things I've done to you? What if you never see those colors again? You used to be so sure of everything, and now you can't even trust yourself. I did that! I did that. I hate myself."

I don't know what I'm doing. I should leave. I should get the hell out of this apartment. It was working until I was here for more than five minutes. Until you cried all those words, and I know I don't hate you. I'll never be with you again but god damnit if it doesn't feel good to lay here, and pretend like nothing has happened in the last three years. Like there hasn't been a string of twenty girls, like there wasn't a blow to the face, like drugs weren't snorted behind turned backs. I need to find a job. I will never know if any of this was real. I will never know if there are more lies, and dirty secrets hiding. I always find out more. Everytime I thought I was secure, and had a place to lay my head at night you swept it from under me. I am not worth it? I don't fuck you good enough? I'm not slutty enough for you? No, he's just weak. He's just weak. He's just weak. I need to start making art. I need to feel free. I need, I need, I need you at the sweetest moment. I know this new found openness wont last much longer. I need to get out of bed. I need to get out of bed. I need to get out of bed. I can't talk about this to anyone. How fucking embarrassing is it to admit that I gave up everything for the faith I had in you and it failed. Crashed and fucking burned. Who's gonna get me off? Who's gonna force feed me? Who's gonna call me out on being a little shit? I'm not sad about losing my "boyfriend", god how pathetic, I'm sad about losing my best friend. The only one I can tell things to, the only person who knows anything about me anymore. I guess that's why I'm writing in here, just to let some of it out. I hate myself. I never used to hate myself. I'm powerful, and talented, and funny, and caring, and all of these things that make an amazing person and all I can see when I look in the mirror is too fat, too tired, too weak, too fucking tired, too too fucking tired. But I'm going to keep going, I'm not going to pick up an eight ball, or a bottle and forget about it. I just know - I just know that I meant to do something great. I mean OBVIOUSLY, if you're twenty and not pregnant in this day and age you're meant to do something great.

Ha, at least I still have my wits about me.