i know what you are

And it bothers me, that nothing is never OK. It's always up or down, and nothing's straight.
Why can't there be an in-between-state-of-mind?
Please. I hate that I'm so fucking bipolar, and that I need you.
I need you to make me feel OK. I wont be anything else. I am needy, and still: I hate needy people.
Like he was. and the other one. And the one after that. But you're different. Right?

I hate myself like this.
Why do I need you to tell me that I'm great? That I'm worth it.
Because that's all I ever whispered in your ear: that you're great, and that you wont want me when you're sober. That I mean nothing to you without the fucking booze, the alcohol in running in your vains is what makes you want me. Does in make sense?
I think not.
But I don't ever think. You mean the world to me. You keep me up, and I don't even know you.
When did I get this depressing? This desperate, pathetic.
And all you can say is: No, you're not. You're beautiful, you're all I want.
But, you say that to get me into bed. To lay underneath you, make oh-ah sounds. And I would not even love myself when I act like that, so how can you?
I'm not asking you to love me. Just to make me feel OK. But, oh! Why do I need you so bad?
You fuck up my mind.
Fuck it up, real hard. Just mess me up, or fix me. But I bet that it's easier to fuck me up. So why wont you?
Go ahead, fuck me up.
Fuck me up to no going back.

Complaints

Bite me:

you are:
remember?

e-mail: (publiceras ej)

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