the truth is. none of this really matters. i am fundamentally incapable of being understood. i am fundamentally incapable of being perceived or loved in a way that i could feel it, or hold it, or remember it. nothing anyone ever does would be enough, and in return nothing i do ever feels enough. but i am foolish and desperate and i keep trying. i keep overexplaining. i keep trying to squeeze into smaller spaces. i keep trying to shed layers of myself. i keep trying to commit to memory. i keep running away into hiding, even when all i want so desperately is to be found.

all this because everything ends for me the day i accept that this is all i deserve- that no matter how much love is given to me, i am destined not to hold it.

the smarter option is to pour your love into something, or someone, that is capable of keeping it. i'm sorry that person isn't me.