(tw: some gore metaphors)
What’s wrong with me? I ask myself this as I rode the bus home yesterday. It is my daily ritual to become obsessed in self-reflection twice in one day-on the bus to school, and on the bus home. This is normal for me. It is the nature of me. But it is the object of the thinking that sickens me.
It’s love, again.
What is wrong with me?
It’s love again. As if everything else wasn’t already difficult enough, I have to worry about this to.
I can’t give it up. I realize how bad it is to hold onto and cling to it. Desire, unfulfilled and unstoppable desire for something. It’s like holding something corrosive, and it stings and nips away at the skin on your hands so that they become red, and swollen. But you can’t let go.
Desire for me almost always brings deep emotional pain. I link up the reasons why I can’t act on my feeling. I am not attractive. No one likes me like that. I am too emotional. I feel too deeply and too strongly.
My only hope is to resign myself from wanting to be loved.