When you tell me you love me, I want to kill myself. I want to take a razor to my wrists, two vertical slits. I want to bleed out in the bathtub, slow and quiet-like.
Your words are useless, empty, nothing but hollow. Your words are a reminder of things I wanted, things taken away, things I need to forget.
When you tell me you love me, I want to believe you. I want to bleed out, because I know there’s nothing to believe.6 comments
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