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.
I pawned off my morals long ago.
I’m vengeful and petty.
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’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.