Imaginary Conversations

Every thought I have hurts.

I've become obsessed with how much of a mess I am.

I constantly push myself to see how much I can take

Knowing full well I can barely handle breathing.

I overestimate my strength of will.

I'll never be who I want to be

And I'll never be okay with who I am.

Every new thing that goes wrong is the next worst thing ever

Since it just piles on top of everything else.

I hold imaginary conversations in my head

Playing out the disappointment

So that I can avoid it in the real world.

I always assume the worst so that nothing hurts,

But everything hurts when everything's the worst.

I experience the failure and rejection before it gets a chance to exist,

Attracting it to myself in actuality to fulfil my s****y expectations.

Thinking that whatever I imagine has to be worse than reality,

I'm not even surprised anymore when I'm regularly proven right.

But there's always that glimmer of hope.

Maybe this time will be different.

My luck can change and maybe this time things will go well.

I try my best to quash that hope.

I know it to be false, yet it still nags at me.

How can I expect things to go well when experience has proven otherwise?

Why can't I just shut off those useless feelings?

They only live to serve my pain.

The good just accentuates the bad.

The fleeting moments of happiness just make the pain feel worse.