As I lay here, I remember all the words they’ve said to me. That I don’t try. That I don’t care. That I’m a nuisance. That’s 3 new sentences to add to my arm. I lay here with my best friend. He never yells; never makes fun; only writes the truth; let’s me feel real. It’s not a relapse. Not really. It’s more of, reverting. And I wouldn’t be happier any other way.
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2 comments
hold on to your bestee.i am still regreting my losing mine
i felt this. i still do.