F / Old enough / Disordered
I've been convinced that I am mentally ill. I am chemically dependent. I am eating disordered. I am culpable. I am contentious. I am a vestige. I am a ghost that has amnesia. I am a nomad that can't remember how I got here. I am the stone you lay flowers on, as some sad form of proof that you remember those that are gone. I am a bill that goes unpaid on purpose. I am the standard definition of spoiled/good girl gone bad/wasted potential/a parent’s disappointment. I am an empty body/empty wallet/empty promise/empty plastic bag. I am the prescription people pray for. I am the addiction you pay for. I am a melting pot of wrong.
I have discovered that I can't stay in relationships for very long. I don't really want to, anymore. I've met a lot of good, wholesome people here. Smart people, unique people, caring people, troubled people, beautiful people. I've learned so much, I've learned to appreciate words. But I can't communicate well. I hurt people and I'm the one that comes crawling back afterwards; begging to be loved. I'm clingy, I'm jealous, I'm lazy, I'm wasteful. And I don't care about other's feelings. My issues outweigh everything else and they always will. Always. I can teach people how to hate themselves more than I do. Why am I telling you this? Why do you care? Well, I want to lay all my cards on the table before you start to play. I don't want you to get to know me and regret your decision later. I am sick. And I'm not even sure if I care.