#vent?ish

I fantasize about telling someone each horrible, rotten thing that's ever happened to me, and them listening attentively to each and every word and then still loving me despite it all.

But the list of terrible things seems to never end, and with each new gruesome story i share, i grow increasingly wary of their reaction, ever doubtful that anyone could ever really love me if they knew all the ways in which i'm damaged.

it's not as though i aim to win some sort of "most fucked up person" award. in fact, i believe my issues to be infinitesimal in the grand scheme of the crap we all collectively live through.

i don't think i'm the most fucked up person, but i do seem to believe myself to be pathetic and unforgivable.

if someone going through exactly the same hurdles as me came into my life, i would tell them that they can be, and probably already are, loved by the people in their life, that they are not some broken thing beyond repair.

but when it comes to me, i seem to have this mentality that all that has happened to me has deemed me unworthy of any love and acceptance. i've convinced myself that i'll scare away anyone who tries to know all of me, only to see the mess i truly am.

in the end, i don't think i like me very much. i resent myself for the things that have happened to me, and constantly second-guess, berate and torture myself with my own cruelty.

i don't like myself very much, but i'm all i got, so the very least i'd like for someone else to look at me with the affection i lack.

someone who sees me, all of me, and loves me regardless, so that even if i cannot do so myself i can be sure that i'm not some hopeless, unlovable creature, full of flaws that seem to tower over my own body and bury me beneath them.

All I wanna do now

Is wait for you to call me

Baby, I'm so sorry

Do you wanna hurt me?

Are you gonna hurt me?

Please don't desert me