HI NEW FRIEND!!!

it's me

it's who I am

but to have everyone suddenly shift you and your relationship under a microscope to see what you want from each and every person

I guess I don't know how else to record this other than here where no one will find it.

I hate myself.

Every single day I wake up and hate myself.

I look at you asleep next to me in our king sized bed in our rgb lit room with all OUR things and I hate myself.

I get up out of bed and shuffle lazily around our home just... wandering... and I hate myself.

I run my hands over our kitchen counter where we cook all our meals together and hate myself.

I make my way to our 'entertainment area' which hosts both of our individual computer desks and figures and pops and comics and merch and I hate myself.

I shuffle back through our home. Posters and pictures hanging on walls with shelves of things we love and enjoy together... and I hate myself.

I sit in my spot. On my end of the couch. A place where I have sat next to you and watched so many things that have made us laugh, cry, yell and cringe at and I hate myself.

I stare at nothing in this cozy space on our couch that as of this moment couldn't feel any less than an endless void... and I hate myself.

I open my phone and look at my recent messages... and I hate myself.

I scroll through conversations. Again and again and again and again and again I find that all I know is I hate myself.

I can't help feel the way I feel... and I hate myself.

I should have said something sooner. Should have been more clear... and now I hate myself.

I look at the faces of people who love and adore me and who I love and adore back.... but not the same way... and I hate myself.

I get nothing but understanding and nodded heads and words of affirmation... but not what I want to hear... not what I want to feel... not what I want to do... and I hate myself.

I'm in the bathroom now and I can't remember when I walked in here but as I stare in the mirror I can barely even recognize the person I see before me... And I hate it.

I hate... everything... that's me.

The perfectionist. The liar. The showman. The charismatic character that has performed all his life. The reliable one. The dependable. The just. The kind hearted. The sweet. The wounded puppy.... The selfish... The depressing... The mood killer... The one who falls too easily... and breaks just as fast.

I hate him.

I hate this person staring back at me with eyes that beg for pity but have no reason for receiving.

I hate this person who feels so many fucking things all the time and can never find the right people to express it to.

I hate this person who drags others down in his bullshit.

I hate this person who ever feels love and affection and attraction to anyone because it always breaks me.

I hate this person for putting me through so much.

I hate this person for putting you through so much.

I hate... myself...

Every part of what makes me... I hate it...

Why does everyone love me so much when I'm so broken?

Why bother trying to piece something back together that's missing parts... that clings onto anything that tries to help too hard and hurts them...

Why can't I just be what you want me to be?!

Why can't I ever just be happy with what I have?!

Why must I ALWAYS find a way to fuck things up?!

Why....... why do I have to hate myself so much?

Words of love slip past our lips countless times a day. But only ever from my lips first.

Those same lips press up against your own, gently, hungrily, desperately. They pepper galaxies of affection against your face, your hands, your body, anywhere they can reach. But this can only happen when I ask or each time I pass you in our home. Because your lips never meet me first.

My hands will often tangle through your hair. Hands slowly caressing scalp and muscles down your neck to make you feel relaxed. To make you feel secure. Loved. Wanted... Why do your hands never do the same?

Those same hands of mine massage and linger across the barest of skin. They plead to please you. To hear your moans of delight. Of relief. Of all the emotion that pours from my heart for you every moment of every day... Your hands barely reach mine... and only ever to ask for more of me... For more of everything I give to you so openly and freely at any moment... of everything I can give to you... but you never give to me.

How is it, that I can feel so loved yet so lonely? So heard and seen but never spoken to or reinforced. How can you make me feel like the luckiest person alive and the loneliest at the same time?

How is it that I have this deep yearning for more? This need to get the things you do not give me from somewhere else. How is it that I can so easily deny myself of getting these things because your mind won't allow it? Because your heart can't take it.

To have me find these things elsewhere would break you. For me to receive these things from others is so deeply damaging... so then why can't you give them to me? Why must I come close to crumbling every time for you to see me, feel me, hear me screan out with every fibre of my being that I need more?