I hate being jealous I hate the way we speak to each other when were upset I hate how i bring up the things i know i'm not supposed to mention I hate how i snap at you for no good reason I hate how she had you first...
I hand out second chances like there's no tomorrow.
I fake smiles to make people happy.
My disorder isn't my problem; it's the solution to my real problems.
Sometimes I just want you to listen, not talk, not interrupt, not offer advice or suggestions. Sometimes all I want is you to sit there and listen and to feel like I have been heard.
Sometimes the weight of my sadness is bone-crushing, like the pressure of water down deep.
