Love, me.

This is what I want to tell you, and this may disgust you a lot because of the fact that I am disgusting.

I know you won't read this, ever. So I can say just what I want and not being worried about your reaction. Do you remember when you couldn't touch me because I felt a little amount of pain when you did that? Well, I think I just figured out why I felt that way. It was the pain of the fear, because I was scared of caring about you and then suddenly one day you would disappear and I would just stay there, standing and waiting for you like a dog. In case I never told you how was this pain, I'll describe it: it was like a pain on my neck I can't actually describe, and a pain on the place you touched, like a pain that came from somewhere under my skin. I don't know if I can still feel that pain of fear because it's been a while since the last time you touched my skin. Right now it's not a physical pain but a deep and tiring psychological torture whenever I think about you. I'd love to say "thank you"  but it's not your fault at all because of being born, it's my fault because of being such a stupid disgusting whore. I hate myself for it. And I am sorry. This is dumb but I am not sure about why you're angry, but, whatever is the reason you have to hate me, I am sorry. I'm sorry about being annoying and overreacting. I'm sorry about sending you a pointless letter that I hope you burn. I'm sorry about doing all those things and I did them just because I felt lonely and because I have no self-love so I thought it was a good idea to do self-destructive things. Now I cut, I think it's a better way to hurt myself. If you want me to shut up, tell me and I will. The whole point of this letter is very simple, two things: I am sorry and I care about you, I do. So you told me you're trying to be happy and that's why I want to die so I could just disappear and stop fucking up everything. I'm scared, I'm really scared. I'm sorry.