you told me i was too difficult to love. you told me i had too many problems and you just couldn’t deal with them. you told me loving me was like a full time job. imagine how i feel. i’m the one who has to deal with myself every single day and i’m the one who has to love myself or else i’ll simply just fall apart and die. you told me i wasn’t trying hard enough to be happy. when i was doing all that i could just to keep myself alive for you. fuck you.