Heartwork.

I want to care about people.

I do.

It takes training, though.

And if someone is going to piss on me for shit I've been doing, I can handle that easily. But when they take what I say and internalize it, twist it around, make it their problem, that's when I see the cause for things to end.

Honestly, I've been wanting to kill myself for months.

I stick around for this training shit, so I can be a normal person again.

It's tough.

You should know that.

You have enough shit going on to know how difficult it gets sometimes.

So it's getting a little difficult for you too as of late, what with your grandpa going in for tests, or whatever is going on with that.

If you're so concerned, why don't you leave.

I'm tired of sticking around for people who won't meet me where I want to be.

I can't sit and talk about issues for hours that don't concern me, but if you need an ear I'll give you one.

Don't expect me to be happy with everything you say.

Don't expect me to not hurt you, I'm smart. I'm smart and I'm a coldhearted bitch.

That's what I'm good at, tearing people apart, hurting them. Scratching their souls, even. Some people are hard to crack.

I investigate souls, I want to know the bits of life.

I want to know that there's someone out there who's not just part of the crowd, who's more than an upset and lamenting teenager.

I'm fucking sensitive, if someone looks at me the wrong way I get torn apart.

I don't feel love, I feel hatred.

I hate to be hated, it makes me real.

Just having this conbersation and wondering what comeback you're going to have for it is tearing me apart.

Wondering what my parents think, hurts.

A lot of things are broken, there's no clean up crew for souls.

Things just keep lacerating, and lacerating.

At some point in a lot of peoples lives they want to show people how much they hurt on the outside.

I don't know why humans are so fucked up, but we are.

I try my best to deal with it, I try my best to convince people I'm alright, I don't LIKE being hyper-sensitive and controlling.

It's the only way I know how to feel these days.

I loved, I loved in the summer and all I got was a fistful of hatred shoved back at me.

I've given up on loving, I've given up caring for people. I'll play at it, wish it was there, but find myself incapable of dealing with the consequences, find myself incapable of completing the act.