I dont know why I try anymore. I dont know what I keep doing wrong. I certainly don’t do anything right except for help with homework, and I do it for 50% the wrong reasons anyway… because its attention. Faux appreciation. I am so sick of crying myself to sleep. You feel like you have these talks all the time, well I cry myself to sleep all the time.

I am not a priority. This isn’t going to work when you’re my priority and I’m your option. I… I don’t feel like you care enough to try hard enough. you’re happy to list all the reason in detail about how you’re going to fuck it up, and then you’re off. Doing just that. I dont know how I can prove anymore that I care and that I’m trying, but nothing makes a difference. I dont believe you will follow through, because you can’t even follow through with yourself. you avoid doing things that you know are good for you, so why on earth would you even be able to devote time for me… I’m stupid to think… anything.. expectations are shit.

I battle constantly with trying to give you enough attention so you wont look elsewhere for it, but I seem to be in a constant struggle with vying for your attention against online moms… random people. Ambien. I flip, I jump, I run circles, and I can’t seem to get more than one word answers. I’m hurt. I’m sad. I’m frustrated. I’m angry. I don’t feel good enough. I don’t feel important. I don’t feel… like you care. Because you say you do, but you don’t show it.

I’m back where I started, alone, wondering why I ever thought to deviate in the first place. You said you’d be stupid to fuck this up, that you’d lose me if you didn’t fly. Well, what’s changed. I’m like a puppy on a leash, I don’t stray and I come when you call. You don’t love me… I’m just helpful, and useful. I’m not angry. I just… I didn’t think I’d be able to go through this again, and here I am. trying to figure out if I can deal with this… You were scared, and I fought for it, I pushed and the only reason was because I saw potential, and here I am slapped in the face because you can’t even make my concerns a conscious decision… I only fight because I believed that there was something more to this… But I’m broken again.

And I can’t do this anymore because all I do is give and I guess I am the type of girl that you just fuck and leave on the floor. At least emotionally… Because I dont feel like I have anything else and I just use myself to give to you, and in doing so I just hope that maybe you’ll… SHOW that you appreciate me. But you’re numb, your stupid fucking drugs make it so you can’t feel anything. And maybe if I took them too we’d be two peas in a pod. We’d be fine, and perfect, and not feeling a thing. But I’d rather be alive and feel anxious and feel like I’m going to die and be scared and be happy and be sad, rather than hiding from it. I’d rather be extreme than placid. Random than boring.

But nothing I do seems good enough and I’m not angry at you for it, it just makes me hate me…