Honey, I’ve spent hundreds of nights hating myself and not being able to look in the mirror because of what I saw. I’ve cried until I ran out of tears and I’ve dialed his number with shaking hands one too many times praying that his voice would cure whatever chaos was making its home inside of my head. I know what you’re feeling and you are not alone, and if I’ve learned one thing in the history of the self hatred that I’ve endured, it’s that no matter how much you love him it won’t make up for you dragging blades across your skin or pushing your finger down your throat. Silent self destruction is horrible for so many reasons, but the top one is that eventually you’ll grow so used to it, you’ll forget why you ever should’ve screamed for help in the first place.
Drowning in sadness doesn’t make you strong. It means you’re drowning. No matter how long you hold sorrow in your lungs and try to hide it so others aren’t exposed, in the end you still won’t be able to breathe. There is nothing wrong with lessening the burden on your shoulders. Find something you’re passionate about and oh god, stick with it. Because it’s the only thing that can save you. He can try and he can love you with all of his heart, even if it’s never been broken before, but you will still need to pull yourself out of this rut. Those around you can lend a hand, but not a whole new body, so remember that and treat yours with care.
Just because people have it worse off than you doesn’t mean you have to feel guilty for crying on the washroom floor at midnight or denying the guy who gets a little too close to you at parties. You are allowed to be sad. You can’t measure yourself up to others as though happiness comes in teaspoons, so stop doing it. We all have our own battles. You’re gonna win yours. Trust me.
Eventually something you love is going to be taken away. And then you will fall to the floor crying. And then, however much later, it is finally happening to you: you’re falling to the floor crying thinking, 'I am falling to the floor crying,' but there’s an element of the ridiculous to it — you knew it would happen and, even worse, while you’re on the floor crying you look at the place where the wall meets the floor and you realize you didn’t paint it very well.