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Friday, September 5, 2014


Fuck
Fuck
Fuck
Fuck
Everything.

"I am fearfully and wonderfully made." Yeah. But I can fearfully and wonderfully un-make myself with a single breath--sometimes even a lack of one. I ought to be a fucking case study.

You know the drill (don't you?) You build yourself up, make promises to be better than you are, to defy your sorry self through sheer will power, and in the midst of all this humanistic determination and optimism you walk out of a building without something essential, thus proving you are and most probably will always be the same incompetent accident of a person you always were.

I know it's only my purse. I know it's locked up at work safe and sound and I'll be able to get it first thing in the morning. I know it could happen to anybody--but I let it happen to me. Again.

Maybe it was just the timing of the whole thing. I signed a mental contract with myself that I'd do better in school, join a club or an honor society, meet new people, get more involved with my school's community-or at least more involved with my own life. You know. Like an adult. Like the thing I'm supposed to be at 21 fucking years old. Turns out, I can't even be trusted to remember to take my purse with me when I leave work.

I have no idea who I am anymore.

Ily


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