#self loathe

I hate how life works out sometimes…

I hate how well adaptive I am and how well i’ve adapted to the the disappointments in my life.

Adapted so well to disappointment that i’ve learned to be content with myself and do for myself so much that when im unexpectedly given to by others I am much surprised but no longer grateful because Ive already taken care of it myself.

“It” being things I want gifted or things I need done. I no longer wait to be helped not because i’m proactive but because I no longer expect it to be coming.

I no longer let myself crave joy as my body has adapted and developed a system that instead of acting normally— holding excitement for what’s to come and/or holding hope that ones who love me will see my need and supply— to instead act straight away on a want not because now my contentment is more important than then, but because I’ve been so used to being the main supply for my “happiness” I no longer allow myself to hope or expect it from anywhere else or anyone else.

…cuz i know it’s not coming…

I supply myself with the things that will make me happy in the moment with no hope of any ignition coming from a source other than myself and no patience to have wondering if that spark will fade before I supply more fuel for myself while waiting on another to light my fire.

An automatic, lifeless, flame. Ignited by my own fuel on a constant use of non renewable energy.

We were in the drive thru my mom and I—— maybe you don’t need to know the story just how I feel…