Maybe I'm a different breed

Too hot; too cold, too weak, too strong, too much, never enough.

Who am I?  What have I become?

Breaking News: my band-aids never stick because I spend too much time washing myself clean.

If only one could wash away the guilt and the shame, the pain and the same, same, same over again.

It makes sense at the right time of the morning.

Put aside the logic for a moment - at what point does "I want" become "I need so desperately that missing this in my life could kill me"?

running in the night

Ha! I believed I had a chance! 

I'm in hell.


Hell.


Hell.


Hell.


Hell.


Burn me alive and end it all.