Professional Fuck Up
And extremely pretty.
Dying but I’m not dead yet.
But aren’t we all?
I cannot undo anything and sometimes the thought of that gives me a head rush. It’s not the bad kind where I’d wish would send me into a whirring place of sadness where I would forget everything happened, but just a an overwhelming feeling just below a notch of anxiety where things flash before my eyes and that’s it. I’m exactly who I created. My past is behind me and I can’t change a thing. There is not a single person who knows everything about me. I wouldn’t ever dare share aspects with anyone. It’s over, time is gone and it’s moving. I am free.
I just want to write this and document and share that right now I feel like I’m having very strong urges to restrict and the voice that’s been so quiet in my head for so long is getting louder. I’m fighting it and going on with my normal routine— but I just want to have it noted.
"What’s your favorite album, or book?" "I really like Metamorphosis, I think it says a lot about the human condition and psyche." "Yeah I love Franz Kafka." "Oh no, I was talking about Hilary Duff’s debut album."
you’re either obsessed with coffee or you can’t stand it there is no in between
Swing life away.