>>528990681
I need someone not to fix me, but to help me fix myself, I've realized. But the world doesn't owe me anything. I don't feel entitled.
I simply am too emotionally injured at this point to pull myself up.
Through some miracle of sheer willpower, I will pull through and make something of myself, or I will die and it won't make a difference to a single person in this world. It wouldn't have made a difference to my "family" even when they were alive because I've never been deemed worthy of care or consideration, yet alone the concept of "love".
My life is a trainwreck, but it isn't the sort of trainwreck that's onoing with the engine still chugging forth and the damage ever accumulating on the body with fresh scrapes and dents.
It's the kind of trainwreck that's long since past its point of impact and the shell of the locomotive lays isolated in the woods.
Far from the tracks, away from civilization, out of sight and out of mind. It's covered in moss, the engine and inner mechanisms needing replaced entirely if it were to ever run again.
There are whispers of this train, maybe, among niche locals who swear to you that if you make the trek into the woods at night you can hear someone crying from inside of a caboose.
They come up with spooky stories to explain this ghost, but they're only that--stories, which could never scratch the surface of a reality worse than what a normal human mind can fathom.
It wouldn't matter even if the world knew the truth.
It wouldn't change anything.
There is only so much anguish, pain, and grief the human mind can take before it breaks and I've exceeded that threshold since I was a teenager.
Nobody is going to kiss my wounds better because that's reality.
There is no "letting" myself be undisciplined.
I'm too far broken at this point. It is what it is.
And in the grand picture of life, my pain is meaningless because it only holds any value to me.