I’m not doing well.
I’m just not doing the right thing.
I know what it is.
It’s within my ability.
I think.
Maybe I just feel more comfortable disappointing.
Maybe nothing will ever feel as good as my jeans losing two sizes.
SHUT
UP.
this can’t be all of me.
What if I died like this?
“Here she lies, two sizes smaller....soon to be skeletal.”
Congratufuckinglations.
That’s not even all of it.
Not close.
I can’t make my brain stop long enough to even know.
I want to be able to feel comfortable in a room
I want to accept who I am
I want only the impossible
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