It is you. It is fucking you. I cannot describe it anymore, it is you. You are the only one that I will ever want. I belong with you. You are my home. I look at you, and somehow I can see 50 years from now on the front porch of some old house in the middle of nowhere and we’re together. I need you. You are the only thing that matters. You are my good.
-You know you’ll be ok, but you still feel awful.
-You know people love you, but it doesn’t feel like they do.
-You know doing something will make you feel better, but you just don’t know how to.
-You want to be well, but you just can’t seem to get there.