I ruin almost everything like winter swallowing spring. It’s strange how everything I touch falls apart from caring too much. A toy, a dream, a hopeful start, a hobby close to my fragile heart even friendships soft and new seem to crumble, and I never knew how delicate connection could be, or how fragile I was learning to be. I try so hard to fit in right, then replay every moment at night.Every sentence, every move, every look I try to prove wasn’t awkward, wrong, or strange just normal, safe, and rearranged. Sometimes I sit for hours with my mind, rewinding moments I cannot rewind. Asking myself if I was too much or never enough too silent, too loud, too soft, too rough. And somehow… always wrong. And yes it keeps me from reaching out, from meeting people I care about. Because pretending to be effortless is exhausting to maintain, and overthinking every breath turns connection into pain. And when I hold myself controlled too long, I become restless, tired, and withdrawn even with the few souls who let me be real, who see the chaos and still choose to stay. Still I want to belong somewhere. To have hobbies and people who care.To join without rehearsing lines, to speak without analyzing signs. I want friendships where silence isn’t tension, where mistakes aren’t a reason for rejection, where I don’t have to shrink to be accepted, and I don’t have to break myself to be respected. I want to exist without fear that others find me strange or weird to live without carrying the weight of every misstep I recreate. To breathe. To soften. To trust. To stay. Because maybe I don’t ruin things maybe I just loved in the only way I knew. Maybe I'm not broken just learning how to bloom. And maybe one day I’ll stop fearing the things