Dear Diary,
Would you be better with someone else? Could someone be able to soothe you like I can't? You say it's enough that I'm here, but I've never been enough.
I'm too sensitive. I can't handle your anger. I feel like a child when I shut down in front of you. I feel too sad, too empty, too tired. There's so much better than me, you must know that. I'm incapable of most things, I'm scared you'll leave me, but I'm more scared you'll stay and end up miserable because of me.
Don't I drag you down? No matter how much I try, doesn't my emptiness feel like a curse? A burden you've never been obliged to carry? Isn't it too heavy my love?
I can take it away, I love you too much to let it carry it. It's always been only mine, I can take it back, I promise I can handle it by myself.
Please don't leave me. Even though I'm clingy and annoying. Loud and too quiet at the same time. Even though I take up too much space. Even though I'm nothing, even though I'm no one, even though I'm a rotten broken, slither of a person. Even through the other possibilities, the other pretty faces, the other ones. Please keep choosing me.