I don’t want anyone to have to deal with my shit.

It gets so unbearable sometimes, like I swear I don’t wanna be this person, but I keep thinking, is all of this even real? Am I just seeking desperately for pity?

I was born broken I guess.

It’s not that I’m scared to let people in, I let them in and then I regret it because they don’t deservey messy existence in their life.

Maybe in another universe I don’t lose all my life to mental illness.

I don’t even know what I’m desperately searching for anymore.

به داداشمم کام‌اوت کردم.

I’m not good luck Dean.

Unforgivable, that’s what I am.

- You were a wonderful experience.
+ I wish I’d never met you.

It hurts but it doesn’t mean it wasn’t worth it.

Back to lonely nights without you.