i became good at pretending. i became so good that after a while the lines blurred between my truth and fiction. and sometimes, when i did a really good job of pretending, i even fooled myself.
come here and hold me, make me feel better. promise me i'm good enough, tell me you can love me, even the worst of me. even the worst of me, even the worst.
what doesn’t kill you leaves disfiguring scars. what doesn’t kill you fills you with paralyzing self—hatred. what doesn’t kill you makes you afraid for the rest of your life. what doesn’t kill you might make you kill them.