I’m a failure as a human being.

I laugh at all the terrible and offensive things.

I’m not sure I’ll ever be happy.

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I pawned off my morals long ago.

I’m vengeful and petty.

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If I said I cared about you, I’d probably be lying.

I have shaky hands and a steady stream of creative insults.

I’m not sure how to make it through this year.

I hate this town and the dumbfounded dipshits that populate it.

I feel that there are more important things than being fit and attractive, like being alive.

I have no taste.

I’m disillusioned.

I’ve reached the limits of what the prescriptions can do.

And I’m not apologizing for any of it anymore.

Because I’m ready to fight a war of inches.

And sometimes you have to break a few eggs to make a cake.

So I’ll carry on making the same mistakes.

Because I can’t afford to make any more.

Better a war inside my head than a war with my bloodstream.

And if you take this for more than face value, you’re an idiot.

That will be all.