toy in blood

i wish there was a discrete amount of time in which you know or don’t know if you want to marry someone. But I know some people “know” in a matter of months and others take 10 years. I just wish I knew when the cut off was so I could know if it’s time to move on or stick to it. I just feel like a failure at everything, and like nothing could truly make me happy, and being miserable and dissatisfied with everything has become normal, so I don’t really know when I’m not happy.  Would I marry Derek? Not right now, definitely - but would I ever? Do I even want to get married? Is my desire to get married in any way a projection of my socialization? Is my determination to not be married a response of my early understanding of feminism? Do I see myself with Derek in the future? I don’t fucking know. I feel like I’m losing track of myself and I’m losing time and I want to be single and dating again bc dating is exciting and exhilarating and flirting makes my heart pound and it makes me feel powerful. 

Anyway the point is I am a disgusting slag who can’t appreciate what she has. Ungrateful, unloving, undeserving slag.  

https://youtu.be/BTYAP1-9kxc

I hate myself, I’m not good at anything, I disappoint everyone, I don’t know what my boyfriend sees in me, I don’t have any friends, and I’m not particularly beautiful, and I have scabs everywhere because I’m constantly picking, I don’t think I’m really all that likable, I am abrasive half the time and too anxious and quiet the other, I’m really not that smart, I am not proud of anything that I do mostly because I’m not accomplished or passionate, I feel disconnected from my family, I’m scared that I’m incapable of love, I’m definitely incapable of maintaining friendships, but I know I would hurt people if I killed myself and it’s just not fucking worth it, even if I wouldn’t be alive to experience their grief, just the thought of them hurting is too much to handle. Because it’s stupid, because who fucking cares about me?
The only person ever is derek. The only person I can always count on. And I can’t figure out why he likes me. I’m an empty shell of a person, and I feel like most of who I am is an act, or a front, to appear normal, to appear like life isn’t a constant nightmare of living in this stupid ugly body.