i am the problem

You're not the problem; I am. My head is full of thoughts that I can't even comprehend. It's like I'm turning into a mush, like the trash that I am. If someone could just peek into my head, they'd think I'm a mess. Well, I guess? At least they were honest. If I were garbage, I wouldn't even be used again. I will forever be disposed of by every single chance that is given to them. I'm useless, not priceless. Don't make up lies that you can't even mutter with a straight face. Your futile attempts to fix me will barely do good. It will only cause you harm, I beg of you leave me like how it supposed to be. I don't want to turn you into a mush, when you're the priceless gem that everyone wants.