Insomnia.

Hear things. See things. Think of things. Think of how things should’ve been. How they would’ve been if I did certain things. What they could’ve been if I didn’t. Things only I would know. Because I can relive the memories, relive the feelings I had. Reliving the memories, or the nightmares only makes me hate myself more. My life is always based on failure. I beat myself up for things that couldn’t be stopped. Being left alone. I blame myself. And at nights like these, it’s the things I think about that I tell myself I could’ve changed, even if it wasn’t possible, that I blame myself for. I tell myself I’m never good enough. Probably because I never will be. The things that have happened that have given me the curse of hearing sirens every time I close my eyes, or my OCD to constantly repeat myself, these things are all because I will never be good enough.