Of my unrealistic fear of the world ending.
Of the constant second person, that chimes into my conversations filling me with doubt.
Cure me of the feeling of death.
Of pushing away from others.
Cure me so I can know the difference of love and lust and no love and no lust.
so i can know left from right, and right from wrong.
Cure me, someone cure me.
Cure me from sitting here in utter silence, shaking, not breathing, wondering when and how this will be fixed.
Cure me, cure me, cure what I've become.
Secret 4: I have a irrational fear of everything ending, im like a mini schitzo.