and all of my life I thought the people around me were the ones that were taking everything out. but in reality it was me giving it all away.
I am a doormat.
This has been told to me in the nicest most complementing way. And in the most rude hurtful way. I've always thought that if everyone around me was happy that I would be happy. and I've come to learn that that is so far from the truth.
And I'm tired. I physically feel tired. I want to give up.
I hate myself. And the worst party of all of it is - its my own damn fault.
I have been trying to be enough for people since the third grade, when I first started getting picked on. I've lied about things that I've done or seen or that I like. I've changed things about myself. I've settled for things I didn't really like.
And every time, every. damn. Time. It's never enough. And all of these instances, hundreds and thousands of instances, have broken me. And for what? I am the only person who can say how much somebody's words are action hurt me. I am the reason I'm empty.
Right?
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