Safety is an Oxymoron

I put a safety pin in my pocket today. And that feels dangerous.

Too many unanswered questions for too long; it feels unbearable.

And just in case I break, I am prepared.

Why is my personality predisposed to pain? 

Why can't I be content? With anything. With everything. 

I am a four. Romantic Individualist. 

I want you to notice me. I want your validation. That I am unique. Special.

But when you give it, it will never be enough. 

Because my root sin is envy. I think you have something I am missing.

Answers maybe?

Or maybe it's just the fact that I will never be enough. 

And if I can't be enough, dammit, no one else will be either. 

Profoundly melancholic- my favorite thing about myself and yet my Achilles heel.

Maybe that's why, when I used to cut myself with safety pins, I cut in patterns.

A beautiful bloodletting. Was it more about the beauty or the pain?

Someone, please take the safety pin in my pocket away. 

It might have been made to hold things together... but for me, it just reminds me of how I've torn myself apart.

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