You punish yourself for being yourself.
Hell exists, it’s right here at 3am when I wake up without you laying there beside me.
I think too much. I think ahead. I think behind. I think sideways. I think it all. If it exists, I’ve fucking thought of it.
I still can’t believe I survived myself.
I wonder how biology can explain the physical pain you feel in your chest when all you want to do is be with someone.