morrigirl | Note to a Generalized "You."

I want to talk to you but I can't because you are happy, and your happiness makes me feel worse then I already do.

Your happiness at having made out with a boy we both adore.

Your happiness at having friends and lovers who actually want to spend time with you.

Your happiness at having a job you love.

The more happiness you spread the more petty and helpless I feel. I feel bad for not being happy that you are happy. I feel bad that I am too wrapped up in my own wretchedness to offer you any good will.

I am lonely, disposable, rejected, worthless, emotionally stunted, incapable of developing meaningful emotional connections with others, a head case, your friendly neighborhood psychopath, taken for granted, unloved, scared, weepy, needy, desperate, clingy, and hopeless, among other things.

And unless you are just as miserable as me, I cant feel you. I can't connect. You become just another reminder of all that I am not and all I can never hope to have.

PS: I am scared to write this because I know you will hate me after reading it...if you don't already hate me for being this way.

*starts crying*

I'm sorry. For everything I've done, and everything I haven't.