Fuck this Shit

I don’t take care of myself is the thought I usually have after I’ve had one too many pieces of pizza, am amidst the pains of a break-up, am sleeping with someone to make myself feel better about said break-up or buy another black pair of heels that I’ll only wear one to three times and most definitely can’t afford. I enter a drastic place of loneliness, self-doubt, borderline depressive thinking and my brain quite quickly jumps to the absolute worst part of the reality of where the situation is about to hit the fucking fan, only fueling more bad behavior.

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One comment

  1. Fuckin love this starts in the middle of “nowhere”, concludes at the border of “the end and the beginning”
    Keep on writing I’ll folow and
    meet you at the crux

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