I hurt people. Not physically. I decay the souls of those nearest me. To have me as a friend is to have proven yourself a convenience. To have me as a lover is to be one of the few who feeds my ego with admiration and compassion. You make my life easier, but I care for you not. I think I do. I deceive myself into that belief, but it is nothing but a lie. No matter how much I try to make you and I think that I can care for another, I feel nothing but concern for myself.

    I despise myself. Alas, that is the reason for all of this. I’m stuck in a loop. I hate myself, so I get others to love me. When it begins to hurt you, I realize that the relationship isn’t real. I know what friendship and love are supposed to be. I recognize that what we have isn’t it. It is parasitic in nature. You are the host.
    I deceive all. Each act of kindness I do is coldly calculated and fueled by a bargaining mindset. If I do this for them, they will act how I want. Sometimes, I fall for my own lies, believing that I am a person of warmth and love. I know the right words to say, the words that will continue this play in the way my mind directs it. When you don’t act the part, the cool mind heats. I become childish and spiteful. I hurt my selfish cause when I hurt you.
    I want help. I feel empty. I believe that I recognize the problem. I think that I can see a solution. I don’t know how to get there. I want a happy life. I want to be a person that loves. My Midas touch withers everything, but I want the cure. I see those around me, the ones who were once a part of my life. They seemed to have blossomed. They are happy as they have left my grasp and have surrounded themselves with those who love them.
    I want love. To love and to be loved. My few, failing, and most important relationships can’t last much longer like this. I need to change for them. I say that, but I feel like the truth is that I need to change for me. Is that selfish?