What’s so wrong with being done with your life? Aren’t you being practical by eliminating a waste of space? Everybody sees that you are aimless. Hopelessly drowning amongst your peers, who are all managing to keep their heads above the water. And who do I tell? Who do I talk to, when they all turn around and murmur my words in a train of ears?

Why? A million times, why? I’m going to keep repeating…why? Why? WHY? How many times do I have to ask, why? This minuscule circle I’m running around, it’s milliseconds short. Begin, end, begin, end, begin, end…

There’s simply no point. None. I’m sick. I’m narcissistic. I’m selfish. I’m depressed. I’m bitchy. I’m angry. I’m scared. I’m worthless. I’m so afraid, so fucking afraid. I'm blind. Every wrong step I make is thrown under the microscope and dissected. Why’d you do it? Who did you think you were? Eat something, you’re too skinny…but oh...not skinny enough. Now you’re fat, STOP.

No one cares though. It’s my fault. I'm supposed to just stop this way of thinking? I don’t know how to stop. 

There they are, fucking their way into everyone’s sympathies and remorse. Acting innocent. They only say “it’s so sad”. No one looks at me twice. No one speaks to me, I don’t exist. I’m invisible. Narcissist. I push them away. I shudder in terror at their touch. I HATE THE FEELING OF BEING SMOTHERED, OF HAVING NO FUCKING CHOICE. I crave their touch. I’m scaly and hideous, I foam at the mouth and snot runs down my nose as I try to communicate. Pathetic.