It is such an odd jest of faith, that the most important thing in my life is that which I run from and cannot tell others.

You simply offer yourself and in fear I hurt you and hurt myself.

I run like a coward and hide behind this stupid covers and hope you leave me...but you never do.

I want to find myself so I can die, I want to die so I can maybe live and I want to live so I can try to believe in Your love.

Things are so...I do not know.

It is hard for me to pretend I have any sort of grasp on anything. I'm in pain physically I still want to pray for death, want to indulge my weakness and lay here and hope my life leaves quickly.

The tears turn red from the blood and all I know is I love you. I hate me but I love you. I love me and try to love you but all I end up doing hurting you worse. This stark tension could be cut with a knife but I enjoy being separated so much. The sick and broken part of me loves the attention you shower on me, seeing you beg and plead for my affection to be returned. I enjoy seeing people fawn over my sickness and am afraid if I ever get healthy than I will be alone. Worse yet I will have to make life changing decisions and risk absolute failure, all for what?

All for what? Life and its own sake.