PATHOLOGICAL PERFECTIONISM

Suicide doors on these suicidal tendencies. Iced out with issues, blacked out in this black hole bentley.  Hoes and hopelessness. Demons and diazapam. w.e. It’s all gucci baby. It is not all gucci baby. Security for these insecurities. Do these bottled up emotions come with bottle service? I can’t with this scene. Check please. I need to peace the fuck out.

Pencil skirt tucked into this straight jackets. Lenses smudged on these roses tinted glasses. Tell me something, have you ever not wanted to be alive anymore? Somewhere between the Devil and Prada, I thought something similar in the back of chrysler once.

Everything is fine. Everything is fine. Everything is fine. Stepford wife smile with a prescription to match. Sky high anxiety with the shoes to go. Does this shade of lipstick go with my suicidal tendencies? Does this crippling depression go with these earrings? Outfit on point but can’t find a point. Designer jeans but these genes are malfunctioning. Please stop telling me that I am fine.

Pop a daily jeffery of emotions. Trying to stroke this furry wall and hold on for dear life.  Daily Dose – Take a pill of existential, chug it down with anguish, roll a blunt off of self loathing, rip a line of grandiose, follow with a shot of despair. Time for breakfast. I’m not even hungry anymore. Crash for 5 months. Creative vortex. create a masterpiece, master mind a disaster. I am emotionally annihilated, nothing could be worth this.  Bing, it seems our hour is up.

5 minute convos leave me drained for 5 days. I have nothing left to give. Trying to smile at dinner but I’m afraid I lost the will to live somewhere between the appetizers and the main course.  Oscillating between please can you help me. And I don’t want to be a burden.  Yo your shoulder is looking real nice to cry on. I didn’t want to bother you but….I could really use some help.

I want to peel my skin off my skin and step out of it. Run fingernails through these eyeballs. Ghost this illness like a fuckbwoy.You can’t ghost yourself.  It’s okay. It’s okay. It’s going to be okay. It has to be okay. I have to believe it is going to be okay.  Defining life moments lack definition. Could you show me how to be happy to be alive again? I seem to have forgotten. I think the fundamental problem with life might be that you can’t take a cigarette break from being yourself.

Output on maximum but functioning on E. Malfunctioning at 110%. Listen I am an independent woman and I gots this. I gots this. I gots this. Fuck, I do not gots this. Got issues on backstock. How could my over privileged middle class white ass could have this many problems. Backflipping into to self loathing. So lazy, so incapacitated, so weak. Undisciplined, ungrateful, unworthy. Take a long hard look at yourself and try to like the reflection. Fuck that I am buying another mirror. I refuse to accept the things I cannot change.


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