I feel sick. But it's not a physical sickness. It washes over me and brings tears to my eyes.
Why can't I just be better? I need you to tell me you love me. I need you to hold me tight. But your words cut like glass and you touch burns like acid. Please don't say another word I can't hear your voice.
Every breath spreads the sickness. Every moment it gets stronger. If feeds off my faults somehow managing to create more. If I Were Perfect... But I'm not.
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