"Please don't say you love me, because I might not say it back..."
Backing out is my fear-instilled instinct.
Instinct normally would be telling someone that all of this feels so right.
Right now I think I'm going to be sick.
Sick, isn't it, how I only care about people until they care about me too?
Too late for me to try to save this one.
One more person I've screwed up with.
Without a doubt, the scariest thing I can imagine is not being able to care.
Care to fix me?
Me, myself, and... I hate it.
It isn't fair to anyone involved, this shallow, recurring behavior.
Behave yourself, my mom keeps saying.
Saying it out loud makes it real, and I am cowardly, so you will never hear these words actually pass from my lips.
Lips that smile to hide the fact that I'm not okay, because smiling is so much easier than trying to explain.
Explain to me why I can't love anymore.
More than anything else, it was ignorance that broke my heart, but I got over it.
It makes no sense to me why I cannot love.
Love, you break my heart when you look at me like that.
That is an expression that holds nothing but affection that I do not deserve, that I am not worth.
Worth of each sequential love-interest is questionable when I think about the inevitable outcome.
Out come my insecurities and I rant seemingly without end.
Endings are never as easy as you believe.
Believe me, I never meant for this to happen, I'm so sorry.
Sorry isn't good enough.
Enough is enough.