hardly me

i wish i werent so sad. but i am. i try to shake it, ignore it, confuse myself into thinking that im not, but i am.  i would like to be happy, really, i would. i would like to enjoy the things i dont, appreciate all the things that rub me wrong and get excited and thrilled by the mundane, vaguely sickening parts of my existence. id like to go to sleep, wake up, relax, be tense and all other normative parts of life, in a place where i am vaguely comfortable. but im not and i dont. i want to scream sometimes but i feel i have no voice. when i finally find it, i have so much angst it all just pours out in a jumble of feminine insanity. i fucking hate myself sometimes. like a lot. not for anything specific, just because i am. hardly me.

About lifeofawillow

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