My soul’s a black hole

scarry

My shadow is pain and disappointment
I became a philosopher in my quest to answer

Why?


Endless questions lie within those three letters
Why am I unlovable
Why am I crying
Why is he touching me in that way
Why doesn’t my friend want to play outside with me
Why are those kids picking on me
Why can’t I be a mathematical genius like her so that dad would finally love me
Why am…I alive
Why can’t I just die
Why can’t he notice me
Why am I so  s h y
Why don’t these pills work faster ⇒
Why did I survive
Why can’t I be perfect like everybody else
Why am I so hideous
Why is my hair so curly ξ
Why can’t this pain leave |me| alone
Why am I so scared of men  α
Why can’t mum understand that I’m not feeling like this on purpose
Why can’t I just suck it up and soldier on  × × ×
Why am I so weak and pathetic
Why can’t I be the popular girl that everyone loves
Why does he always hurt me this way
Why am I not losing weight faster
Why is this night so long
Why isn’t the cut deeper

I abandoned myself and No one can shelter me
I’m out of my heart and too much in my head
My heart is haunted and riddled with scar tissues
If I’m numb, then why is pain all I ever feel?
If I’m a ghost, am I a shadow of my former self?
I’m haunting myself. Who do I call?

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