"... you, who I hope can help, because I can't."
This is not what I want, and I cannot keep choosing what I do not want.
The skin on my lips are peeling. Where's my lip balm.
Lip balm.
Who am I to decide if you live or die? The universe knows we are insignificant.
I am scared and I am choosing to run away. Every time I have engaged, I have made a mess worse than the previous mess I was in.
You make me angry at myself. You request for me to tell you to kill yourself.
I will not be doing any such thing.