I think I can finally understand where Sara came from, her outlook on life, her ideals, morals. Being this sad for a year leads me to think I’m depressed and I think I can finally feel what she felt like.
I get attached to easily. I’m so pitiful, it’s disgusting.
They call my depression being “mellow”.
“Do not fall in love with people like me
we will take you to
museums and parks
and kiss you in every beautiful
place so that you can
never go back to them
without tasting us
like blood in your mouth”
Most of the time when I do things I hate myself right after.
So you wanted to do something with me, but you leave me for some other friends. You do this all the fucking time. Why am I still friends with you?