Loneliness, I guess, is what kills me.

I’m addicted to attention.

I don’t know why, really.

I have a way with choosing parasites to fill this never ending void I have.

It doesn’t matter though, really- how bad things can get with someone.

I’ve seen it all.

I’ve felt it all.

The abuse, the drugs.

Not that I’ve ever had illegal drugs, but I’ve learned just how to roll up perfectly because my ex was too high to do it himself and he demanded it.

Or maybe, I’m addicted to the thought of happiness.

I no longer want to feel comfort in pain- I know that much.

I just can’t convince myself to let go of pulling my hair at 2:00 am because my anxiety has gotten the best of me and you weren’t picking up your phone and all I’m thinking is relapse, relapse, relapse- no.

I can’t live without a sense of control.

I’ve decided to leave my bad habits in the past but if I’m left alone for too long I know they’ll try crawling back like a whisper in my ear I don’t want to hear or the secondhand smoke that fills my lungs but somehow makes me feel at home. No.

I need the attention, it’s selfish- I know.

I just don’t know how to live on my own.