𝔄𝔫𝔠𝔥𝔬𝔯𝔢𝔡

In the end, it's all the same. Racking my brain but to no avail, that is why I always fail.. isn't it?

Shame. A sensation that trickles down my back, leaving tattoos and scars of its stay. Always within reach, it never leaves me be. A level of guilt soon follows, leaving me hollow in my self deprecating thoughts. Am I ungrateful or just spiteful? Perhaps prideful? Yet I will never know, and that keeps me wanting to crawl deeper into the depth of the earth. Second guessing if my thoughts are of any worth..

To love.. what is it to love? I feel the soft sensation of glee taking me slowly yet even then, being and thinking too much of you makes me want to flee. The moment someone loves you, I feel unworthy of loving you when there are so many that are better than me. You aren't mine for the taken, and I am not mistaken yet even then, I wish I could tell you that you are dear to me... even when I can sense the feeling of dread consuming of me the moment you and I make contact within this stitched up reality.