You all fucking bore me

I chase things that I should run away from because I like fucking things up. I like the complication, the mess, the pain—I like them when they make me crash. I like them when they make me feel weak and vulnerable. I like how my tears draw the line of murder and regrets on my cheeks. I like the ecstasy brought by torture. I like exhausting myself over because I know that when I have nothing left to give, there will be no reason for me to stay or to step backwards to give it another try. I like destroying things you all dubbed as beautiful. And when I feel like giving up, I will make myself remember how much I like fighting for that last breath to give myself an opportunity to get back on my feet to search for something that would take the pain a notch higher than the usual.