I am the watch you always wear, but you forget to wind.
I just think that there’s something wrong with me. That I’m defective, somehow. That there’s something inside of me that repulses the people who get close enough to me to see it. I go to the end of the world and back for people and it means shit. In return I get fucked over and told it’s my fault. Or abandoned like an old toy that has served it’s purpose; to entertain, to be used, and to be replaced with something better when you’ve grown tired of it and it no longer amuses you. It’s exhausting. And it’s been like this my whole life. My father is the only human being ever to go out of their way to see that I am happy and a consistent part of their life. And it’s only because it’s his parental obligation. I don’t know what to do anymore. Something has GOT to give and I’m afraid of how the desperation for this pressure to subside will manifest itself. I feel like I’m imploding. Like my whole body is crumbling in on itself until I will become nothingness. I’ve been nothingness. I am nothingness.
