There are no reasons other than crazy. (A letter to all past and future)

I was, once,
something more than this to you.

In my insanity, i break things. I push and push till i cant find what i was pushing anymore. I then panic and grasp, too late.

I dont mean to turn away, to hurt. I don't mean to hide. You must be getting sick of me anyway. I'm doing you a favor.
Nonsense, indeed.

I blame you for the horrible person you are in my dreams. I hold onto anger. My heart is still broken. I am still broken. I still hate you as much as i love you.

Emotionally dyslexic, the want and the void. Can i get off this ride now? When will I be done? What is enough?

These are the things inside me.