I caught my actions when I began to feel them slip. Carried them across my chest to remind myself of the pain they have brought to me. How I have to constantly remind myself of the pain or else I’ll constantly make he same mistakes. Or else I will constantly get hurt.

I distanced myself from everyone around me. No one is allowed in. I’ve allowed people in before and all they’ve done is rip me from the inside out. Why? Did they not know how fragile I am? No, they probably didn’t care. Now; neither do I.

I shed blood and tears thinking I was going to be okay. Only I wish someone would have told me sooner that drugs could help with my anxiety, with my constant depression and lack of empathy, I would have already been an addict.

I am both proud and disgusted at what I’ve become. Now, I stand up for myself and it is for myself only. Now, I like not being able to feel my legs or my heart or listen to my head. Now, I hate that I can be such a prick and not feel sorry for it. Now, I hate myself for knowing I’ve changed because of an idiot who wasn’t worth a thing. Now? I don’t know anymore.

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