Broken

I don't want to admit it.  But sometimes, sometimes I like being broken.
They say it has to get worse before it can get better.
There are days when it starts hurting.  Then I just need to break.
And I hate that.

I hate having to throw myself at someone for that.
But I don't have the control to fix it.
That scares me.

Because I hurt.  Then break.  And then you dry my tears.
I hate having to do that to you, and I hate what it lets me do to myself.
No matter what you tell me, it isn't okay.
Not the way this happens every time.

Every time, I lose a little piece of myself.
I forget more and more how to deal without breaking everything.
And every time I wonder if you mean it.
Or if it's just that all over again.
I believed it.

I don't want to fall into that hole again.
So I don't know if I can trust.
If I can believe.

If I can really be weak.
Or if I have to remember to carry myself.
Because I don't want to repeat that.
I don't want to turn into a pitiful mess.

I'm sorry.
I just don't know.