I’m just a bad person.

I’ll never enjoy life. I’ll never make anyone happy, the amount of people I’ve made cry because I’ll never be satisfied. It’s a pattern, the only consistent me. I’m too broken to heal, I’m too terrible to know the truth. I’m just a bad person, the people around me aren’t bad, I am. I’ve been trying so hard since my last attempt to see meaning to see love to see anything. All I see if pain I’m Always hurting myself and others. I’ll never be a functioning adult. I’ll be a emotionally volatile adult who can’t even hold down the simplest of tasks. I’m useless I’m worthless I’m worst of all a burden. I should’ve succeeded the first time.