I am weak. I am broken. And I've somehow come this far without making a solid mask.
I keep half expecting you to leave. I believe in my relationships only enough to believe that they exist, but I see them as fragile. Every extended pause in conversation, every break of not being able to see you, every bit that seems not perfect I worry that I went and fucked it all up for good. Or, perhaps, I simply showed the mess I really am.
So I get frantic. My actions then tend to be split between trying to make sure everything is okay and saying things to provoke reassurance. I know it's not okay, but I've not learned how to keep the relatively sane and calm part of my mind in control. Not yet.
I don't know why I think that any of this would matter. I guess I just feel like, maybe, it helps to at least understand. Part of me doesn't believe that anyone could care for me. I don't understand what good anyone could see in me. I couldn't tell you if I'm clinging or if on some level I'm rejecting the love I don't think I deserve.
I'm sorry. I hope that soon, I'll prove to have been worth putting up with.