“Why am I like this?”

Because I will never be enough.

Because my best will never be enough.

Because Call Me Karizma and Penelope Scott and Cavetown will never heal what’s broken.

Because the dark isn’t as scary as it should be.

Because there’s something fucked up deep inside me,

Where the light can’t reach.

Because I am broken,

broken,

b r o k e n

And nothing could fix me.

Because I drown in my own mind every single second.

Of every single minute.

Every single hour.

Every single day.

Week.

Month.

Year.

Because I’m empty.

Because I’m _not_.

Because there’s too much inside me.

Because it overwhelms me and I shut down until I’m numb.

But maybe it’s because the world is not enough.

Maybe because nothing will ever be enough to contain me.

Maybe because I am black and blue,

And pink and white,

And purple and gold,

And hurt and healing,

And selfish and scared,

And **_me_**.

Maybe because I’m just too much for this world.

Maybe because I will never be enough.

**_Maybe because I already am._**