If I'd have known that from the minute I was born, that the price of my existence would be the weight of expectation, then I wouldn't fucking be here. How can I focus on the life I'm supposed to lead, when every day I struggle with existing?

I've dug a hole so deep in my mind that I can no longer see the light of the sun, I can no longer hear the voices of people I love.
And I've been breaking my hands, trying to carry the burden that I've placed on myself. I'm so afraid of the end, I've lead myself to believe that I may never be happy again.

I think the hardest part of all is trying to justify my habitual self-deprecation, when I am constantly surrounded by sources of love and affection.
I know that I'm not on my own, but I can't shake the feeling that I'm in this alone; there's no one that I feel safe with.

All I've wanted for so long, is to succumb to a sleep I'm unafraid of.

Give me the strength to love myself, as I am told that I am loved. May I believe, despite my doubt, that someday I'll be good enough.
Hindsight is a miserable thing, when you don't know where you're going and you don't care where you've been.