#TEL ME WHAT YOU TOOK? WHAT'D YOU TAKE?

[thenightwinggraveyard]

the rotting daughter

perhaps it’s an indicator of how far gone i am; that when faced with their pitying eyes and furrowed brows, all i can do is smile ruefully. 

they say they’re upset that i’m upset. 

they say they’re not disappointed, just worried. and what do i say to that? 

do i tell them that what they’re feeling for me is only a modicum of the depths of my solemn despair? 

do i tell them that the ache is all i know? 

do i tell them that there isn’t a single waking moment where i’m not wishing i was someone else; somewhere else? 

how can i possibly communicate that i don’t know how to not hate what i am.

how do i put into words that no matter what i do, nothing could make up for the fact that it’s me doing it. 

sometimes, it seems that it was my fate to be a ruined daughter. 

i was destined for nothing else but too dry eyes and self-condemning smiles; 

there is a rot inside me that has been there since birth.

- from a girl with anxiety (and some other problems too)