jennyeatsbabies.

Nights like these I wish I weren’t so alone—Nights like these I wish I had something to hold on to.

The only person I could ever count on is in Canada: unresponsive because I’m a terrible best friend. 

I wish I was lucky: in love, and I wish I was better—a better person, a better girl. I wish I didn’t game and I wish I had a focus and I wish I was plagued with a blander normality that led me to a two-and-a-half kid home.

I wish I wasn’t alone.

It’s upsetting thinking how I won’t ever be loved: how I won’t ever allow myself to be loved, and how, in the end: I’ll always be too selfish for a dual life.