His words were no longer words.
His words became hopes.
His words became promises.
His words broke me to pieces.
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Late night confessions are the worst.
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A dysphoric since 1995. Born with low self-esteem and pure anxiety. An aspiring writer.
My antemeridiem thoughts;
they have been torturing me in every way possible, killing every nerve I had left.
they are the monsters I kept under my bed, but have escaped to the real world.
they are my hunger, they haunt me yet feed me at the same time.
they became a huge satanic part of me, to which I want them gone, for good.
I am 30% anorexic and 50% depressed and 10% anxious and 5% lost and 5% afraid. The doctors tell me I have a 75% chance of addiction and a 90% chance of dying at 60. I am a human being made up of percentages yet still I do not feel whole because these percentages do not define me. How I choose to act on them does, and there is a 100% chance that I will define myself.
My antemeridiem thoughts;
they have been torturing me in every way possible, killing every nerve I had left.
they are the monsters I kept under my bed, but have escaped to the real world.
they are my hunger, they haunt me yet feed me at the same time.
they became a huge satanic part of me, to which I want them gone, for good.
I am 30% anorexic and 50% depressed and 10% anxious and 5% lost and 5% afraid. The doctors tell me I have a 75% chance of addiction and a 90% chance of dying at 60. I am a human being made up of percentages yet still I do not feel whole because these percentages do not define me. How I choose to act on them does, and there is a 100% chance that I will define myself.
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Dear Reader
"Someday, you will find the love you deserve."
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