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Writer's pictureTina Tran

How Do I Love Myself, First

I took about thirteen-fourteen sleeping pills... I'll try to write before I space out. I think once you become the giver, you don't know how to accept it. You don't know how to be the receiver. You become so accustomed to always giving. Loving. Love more, and loving more. Healing, being a healer. Taking everyone's pain and inject them into your own heart, soul, body, and mind.

That's what sucks about absorbing peoples problems and demons. You forget the skeletons in your own closet. You understand all the pain that people go through because you've been there. You're convinced you don't matter and no matter how many times you've been saved from yourself, you don't want to be saved. You're basically a drug addict who's addicted to reckless decisions. You gamble your life, time here on Earth. You're playing a sick game of suicide. Even if you're not trying to physically kill yourself. You act and lash out hoping one day, you'll automatically die. You feed off the motto "live every day like it's your last" to it being your last, you just don't the matter of when or time. But I don't matter.

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