GRAHHHHH

I’m afraid that the amount of love that I show to other people is more than I’ll ever receive. It’d be nice to know that someone other than my family cared but I feel like I can’t just ask them if they do or else …

I’d feel like a pussy if I asked for help with the things I struggle with sometimes. I want to be more of a people person but I don’t know if I can tell the difference between the types of love and makes me feel like a creep to think about my friends once in a while and be jealous that they might have fun without me. But I understand that we all have separate lives and…

I happen to spend most of my time alone. I’m terrible at making friend but pretty good at remembering names. How ironic.

I want the type of love where I don’t have to question if I love them more or where I won’t feel like a loser for asking for help and to be able to be by myself and not feel guilty for feeling a little jealous.

Not like something it just feels like.

A mix of emotions ranging from anger and love which just amalgamated into some gross emotion that feels like.

Even from this tiny room staring at the wall the world is beautiful.

I think of how kind the world has been to me.

I scold it for giving me the bad parts too.

It apologizes for what it can

but

then

we

move

on.

I loved her and the missing her makes it even worse. I miss her hand in mine. The way we laid in each other’s arms listening to her breath. The way our bodies fit together like a puzzle piece.

I love her

but

then

i

move

on.

My parents did their best to raise me for which I am entirely grateful. I was raised to be kind, know and show love, and even when I made mistakes to learn and go at it again. I was raised to be afraid of my mother raising her voice and how it made me feel.

I get mad thinking about the life I could have had

but

then

I

move