Wake up on the problematic side of the bed

Eat a harmful breakfast

Log onto tumblr and reblog posts from abusive mutuals

Attend narcissistic classes

Watch an irredeemable movie

Listen to offensive music

Eat a cancelled dinner

Go to sleep derogatorily

A warped and rude way to see the world, by their standards, but it never changes. All are pets, something to toy with, something to coddle until they misbehave like the animals they are.

Then you put them down. It’s a pet. Who cares? There’s millions. One won’t be missed. I could care less if one died in front of me, and I would be happy to do it myself.

And then you. You’re a pet too. But you’re my pet. I toy with you. I coddle you. And since your attention benefits me, I’ll train you to behave when you act like an animal. You’ll be mine, and until I’m done, you’ll live. I’ll be the one putting you down. No one else.

My pet. You’re my little animal. So dumb, just like all the other ones. But I like you most. I like treating you with care, because you make me feel good.

You can't fix me. Regardless, I'd allow you to tear me apart piece by piece. I'd trust that you could bind me back together into something new, something crafted specially for you. And I'd be more pleased than ever before. Even if I don't know myself anymore.

It's supposed to give you hope and maybe little encouragement if you want to be better, but to the 1% it's just bullshit.

You wouldn't tell that to someone with heart failure would you? No.

To the 1% it feels so degrading, almost taunting as they know you could never get better.

they heard you cry and bitch for years over the same things, things don't get better for you.

You know that, everyone around you knows that. You're just a broken record of endless trauma dumps and tears as you trudge on hoping one day whoever created mankind will finally just give you a break.

You can't get better, you're permanently damaged from everything that happened, and because of that you've given up.