^0^...
I'm sick about you, and if i really can be sincere, i feel like a foolish... a lot.
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You make me mad.
You make me feel like i could be need.
But i'm not.
I can't blame you for try it, and all that i can do is give you a box with my thanks. Can this care to you?
If i ask you something, if i make you a question you'll ever say: I'ts all ok. Why can't you love yourself only a bit? You are a good girl.
I can understand it, but i can't make it real. I can't show nothing of love, nothing of nothing positive to me. Sometimes i think that i hate myself and that i probably must not born.
But then... i remember my friends and all of this happy of sh*t.
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I don't know. I think that i have serious problems with my mind, and with every f*cking part, every cell of my body.
I have mental cancer. Or a displasia,... an infection, who knows.

I HAVE SO MANY FIGHTS WITH MYSELF.. AND I CAN'T WIN.
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