You can’t even manage to get yourself to work five days a week. You don’t care enough about yourself to to take care of your own basic needs. Your lack of self-respect is written all over you like graffiti on a condemned building. Everything you touch turns into an untenable disaster – like Midas turning everything he touched to gold, everything you touch turns to shit. You push people away like a plague – even people that care enough to try and help you. You live in the past instead of in the moment. You are beyond all hope. You might as well just blow your brains out because you will never figure anything out even if the answer to all of your problems was written in bold letters on a piece of cardboard and stapled to your fucking forehead.
There – I said it. It needed to be said and I finally said it.
Why don’t I feel any better?
I was standing in front of the mirror.
3 comments
Hah, every word of this is something that I also should be screaming at myself. Buuut I try as hard as I can to stay in denial and pretend that I don’t know that I am the problem.
Seems like you read my mind. They say acknowledging the problem is half the solution. After years of trying to fix “the problem” (me)… yeah, not so sure about that.
I hear you, man. I hear you.