An Apology.

I wish I could be better than this, 'cause in the end I don't really deserve having people there for me.

I don't deserve neither my family nor my friends,

I don't deserve neither the luxuries I have nor the food I eat.

I don't deserve all the fortune I have in this life.

I've been an awful daughter, an awful sister, an awful friend, and I've done nothing but put everyone around me in a position of misery.

They always wonder, how am I? Am I still alive? Why am I sad?

I don't even deserve the space I occupy in their minds and in their hearts. I, the most selfish bitch in the world, do not deserve space in this world at all if truth were to be told.

A lot of the people close to my heart are in a miserable state right now, and there's no fucking thing I can do. I can't walk up to her and ask her what's wrong 'cause I haven't got the right to do that. I can't go and call her to at least give her the feeling that I'm holding her hand, because I know that my hands are rough and dirty. I can't go and call him to apologise for all the worry I've brought upon him, 'cause I know that talking about it will only make both of us even sadder. Then we'll wonder why we couldn't have been real siblings just so he could always be there for me, and I'll just feel even guiltier 'cause I don't even deserve being called his 'bro'.

I'm completely helpless and useless, and for the longest time I thought I had been the most selfless person I've ever known. But I know now how wrong I am, and that deep down there's no one who I really care for except for myself. The thing is, I don't even deserve myself. I don't deserve this body I am inhabiting. This body is separate from me—it's too 'unconventionally' pretty, too skinny, too precious for someone whose heart is so horrid and whose mind is completely empty. I hate this body and how he thinks it's beautiful, when its owner is nothing but crap. I don't deserve the compliments, the appreciation, all those things. And I suppose that is why I like desecrating myself so much, why I like harming myself. I like keeping this body good-looking, and yet I like it when people bite me, when bruises decorate my body, when scratches form permanent frustrations of the person on my skin. I don't deserve you, I say this as I face this fucking mirror. I don't deserve anything at all. I don't even deserve nothingness.

And I'm sorry.

I'm sorry for all the things I've done to people, sorry for my existence and how it's brought more trouble than love in this world. I'm sorry my heart is too small to give love to people, sorry I've built cold stone walls around it because I'm a hypocrite. I'm sorry I was never there for you, I'm sorry for letting you all down.

But you all have to remember that you all deserve a spot in this world. You all do, for putting up with this disgusting person who at some point you might have called your daughter, your sister, your genderfriend, your best friend. Thank you for putting up with all the crap, but you're not sanitary engineers and so you really shouldn't do that. It's not your responsibility to deal with me, so I'm really sorry for getting your hands dirty every time you try to touch me, every time you try to hug me and tell me everything's gonna be alright. 'Cause you're wasting so much effort on someone who's gonna let you down, someone who didn't even give the badly injured man a second glance when she passed by him yesterday.

I've been a failure. I'm sorry.