I would run away, I would in a second if it wasn’t for the fact the only source of all pain I feel is myself. I can look in the mirror for hours and think of how pretty i am. I could think of a million different people a million different attributes that I can say I have trying to make it okay but I live in a coffin. Carved out of anxiety and painted with self doubt. It emanates. I could change everything about myself, even my personality and looks, but I’d still be nailed to this coffin. Buried 6 feet under this world im losing touch with all too slowly.


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