So I'm heartbroken once more. I'd slice my wrist, take a thousand sleeping pills, and if I wasn't afraid of weapons, well, you can guess what would happen. Heartbreak and betrayal hurt. The agony of not feeling adequate for someone even though you are giving your all. "If only I looked a certain way, if only I were taller, skinnier, prettier, or just better than what you see or compare me to." When you love someone with every fucking ounce of your being and they ignore you for the sake of an illusion that is not real. You die somewhat. A thousand paper cuts are still lethal. When you'd stop the world to make them feel better. When all you want is for your hubby to adore you. When you'd eat their pain just to see them smile. When you swallow your pride and put your ego in control, they will be happy. Now I'm consumed by insecurity and lack trust. I'm here with a bleeding wrist and a stomach full of medications. What's wrong with me, and why am I not suitable for you? Why is what you see in front of you insufficient? Why can't you see the world through my eyes and realize how much I adore you every day? Why can't pleasant and eternal triumph? Why? Why do I have to die over and over? As you consume images of a thousand women, of which I am only one. I can't compete because I'm exhausted, lonely, and terrified.