Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you. But I still fucking love you.
I’m sorry I wasn’t good enough. I’m sorry I was a crazy psycho sometimes. I’m sorry I cried all the time. I’m sorry I overreacted about a lot of things. I’m sorry I threw things when I got mad and said things that I didn’t mean. I’m sorry.
I loved you. I still do. I know I was clingy. I know I wasn’t perfect. But I cared about you more than anything in the world. I dropped everything for you. I did everything I could for you. I spent money on you. I was always there for you. I did anything you asked me to. I would drop whatever I was doing in a second if it meant making you happy. I sacrificed so much for you.
The problem was I couldn’t take care of myself. I put you above me in every situation. I still can’t take care of myself. I’m sorry I always wanted more weed whenever we smoked. I’m sorry I asked for an extra cigarette every time. Or two. Or three. I’m sorry I ate extra mushrooms and tripped when I told you I wouldn’t. After a while, I found the bag behind a box and I wasn’t even mad that you were hiding them from me. I’m sorry I overdosed on klonapin and ended up in the hospital. I’m sorry I went off my medication and didn’t care about taking my meds half the time. I’m sorry I put you through all of that.
I know you think I wasn’t trying hard enough. I was. I was trying so fucking hard. You just don’t know what it’s like to be in my mind. To be me. To feel what I feel. I know it’s hard for you to understand. It’s hard for you to understand my mental illnesses. To understand what I’ve grown up with. I was a lot worse before I met you and that’s probably really hard to believe.
I’m sorry that I didn’t care about myself. I regret it. All of it.
I’m so mad at you for leaving me but at the same time I understand.
You owe me money and I need all my shit back, asshole.
I love you.