My head is a complete mess, and I don’t need the added anxiety and pressure of trying to please someone else added to the mix. The problem is, I want him. I’m already fucked up. I already feel broken and utterly lost. How much more damage can he really cause when all that’s there to work with are pieces? That settles it. I quickly program his number in my phone. He’ll either accept the parts of me I have to offer and be willing to board this crazy train, or he won’t. Either way, I will still be sick. I’m not foolish enough to think a guy can fix me.
