Wishing I was careless

Everytime at my home- no, my house, I make a mistake. And everytime they say it's cus I don't care about things. I don't think about shit. I don't give a fuck.

And I wish it was that way. Cus I have so much shit crossing my head and my ears all the time, bringing that weird non physical pain in the middle of my chest, and it hurts hurts hurts hurts hurts

And I wish I could put a knife in the middle of my ribcage to make it physical, to give it a sense cus nothing in this mess makes sense and the pain grows and it doesn't leave space for my lungs and I can't breath and I'm drowning and in dying I can even damn the person who put blocks of cement on my feet cus I did this all on my own and it's all my fault and I know and I care but I can't change but I fucking care. 

I fucking know. I give a fuck, I give too many fucks about things I can't change cus I make always the same mistakes and never learn from them so at the end can I really change anything at all? 

I have control but if I follow the prophecy is it actual control? And I know in deflecting the blame from my self onto fictional things

But how am I supposed to cope if the fault is all mine? How am I supposed to be kind to myself if I'm the one that hurts others in the first place? I'm a scorpion telling the frog to trust me and I kill it before getting into the water and so I stay on this side of the river alive, waiting for the next frog. I hate the monster that I am. 

But I care. And I can't change.