Wasted Watercolours.

I am so done.

it’s a fucking realisation that no one will ever do what you would for them. logically I should probably pour into myself, but no, I’ll take this as a sign that everyone else is right and I’m a complete waste of space.

I’m done, I need to actually be dead. There’s no point anymore, I can’t even wake up early to do something I have to, it’s ridiculous. I didn’t wanna live this long anyway, why am I still here? I’m gone, today.

forever feeling more disgusting and worthless. yay.

I can’t stop feeling hurt and numb

ugh, I’m always so needy… gimme a line and at least I won’t be able to feel anything instead.

yes, I would like to be able to be more vulnerable with you, but that can’t happen - you made it so. don’t say I’m not open and honest though, I constantly tell you the truth.