i want to be beautiful and loved and sometimes i feel like i almost am. sometimes i feel like i deserve things. and i reach out! and i think that i deserve these things. that i am good.
but at my touch she begins to rot. she begins to die. she begins to decay. and she tells me that she is fine, but i know she is not. because at my core i am a destructive force
a wild animal
an atom bomb.
i want to beautiful. and loved. and perfect. i want those things so bad. but each day that passes i feel, i know, that those things are not for me.
i wasn't put on this earth to love. i don't know what i was put on this earth for, but i know it was not to love
otherwise, it would have been easy.
so i sit. and i let you come to me. i let you yearn for me. i let you care for me.
but the moment that your flesh touches mine, the moment that you get close, the moment that you try to tell me that they love me, the maggots that filled the rotting corpse i call this body will infest you. and you will die. and it will be painful.
and i will writhe and groan as if the pain is my own. and as if somehow none of this was my fault.