scoff wrote:
Keeping track of thoughts. Where does the problem stem from? Why did it appear? Why am I here? Why am I like this? What am I supposed to do? Questions, not answers. Never any answers. I don't know, I've no clue. You know, if I did, I wouldn't be like this.
I'm a pain in the ass, apparently, but I think that's gonna have to be ok, someone's gonna have to accept it. I do things, I do good things, I really do. Because I care. I could've done the opposite of what I did, would that have been better? I don't think so, because what good could come out of it? Yet still it's just complaints, so many complaints. I do it 99% right, but the 1% sticks out, and the 1% screws me over. Darling why didn't you do that? Why don't you ever think? Fuck, you're like a child sometimes, why don't you think? What, I'm like a child? I wonder, I wonder... I mean yeah, yeah, yeah, maybe he's accomplished more or you've accomplished more, but I haven't had the time because I haven't been alive for that long and I haven't gotten money because somebody went and died either.
Fuck, I'm sick of myself, you know? I don't know what to do with myself and my fears and my crippling insecurity. I was good at acting first, but with time my facade has faded and here I am, naked and exposed. Fuck, fuck, fuck! And I think, I really think, that he has come to understand that it will never change. I will always be like this, because it's not hormones, it's not the pill - it's me! I've always been like this, and I don't know what's wrong with me.