I’m not worth it.
I’m not worth your time.
I’m not worth your energy.
I’m not worth the mental space you carve out for me when you say things like you were just thinking of me.
So how do you expect me to just pick myself up and move around like nothing is wrong.
Everything is wrong, with me.
I’m torn between starving myself and eating everything in sight until the emptiness in my chest shrinks because of my enlarged belly.
I’m torn between laying lifeless and crushing everything in my path.
I’m torn between going to sleep and staying up all night replaying my faults.
Wishing I could just move on like you want me to, but it’s hard to move when I feel drained.
My energy depleted from restraining my desire to explode and pushing out against my internal implosion.
So you saying you love me has minimal impact, but I’m glad you said it.
It shows at least one of us loves me.
by Angelique Grey