(tw?) sometimes i feel like i actually do better when no one knows how i feel. sometimes.
i’m still waiting to matter how you said i matter to you
the things you’ve done versus the things i haven’t… which hurts more?
i cannot force you to believe how i feel. i know how i feel and that should be enough.
i think i’ve been trying to write this for a while. my words always get twisted into something they were never meant to be.
i can’t stop thinking and picking apart barely healed scabs- but no one cares no one cares.
i am the ghosts of all the pieces of myself i’ve killed over the years
(tw?) sometimes i feel like i actually do better when no one knows how i feel. sometimes.
i’m still waiting to matter how you said i matter to you
the things you’ve done versus the things i haven’t… which hurts more?
i cannot force you to believe how i feel. i know how i feel and that should be enough.
i think i’ve been trying to write this for a while. my words always get twisted into something they were never meant to be.
i can’t stop thinking and picking apart barely healed scabs- but no one cares no one cares.
i am the ghosts of all the pieces of myself i’ve killed over the years