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Pity and Future Pride

October 30, 2016

I have shirts that I fear might be worn by others in the near future. I am well, but I’m engulfed in an emotional limbo. My body decides that my chemistry needs to be in a mode that can only be called melancholy. There’s always been a subtle sadness to my writing and my musings, but this is something that I’m coming to terms with. Especially being single. There’s a responsibility in entering a relationship that states problematicism. Rather than share sexually transmitted diseases that we have, I’m more in tuned to relay information on my mentality and how I’m unfit for most things, such as life and being a joy to be around. It’s a funk, but these funks are not fun to be around. These funks are just heavy levels of anxiety that creates a void in my life because I tend to push people away. I push them away because I disappoint. I am highly entertaining, and sometimes I’m not. My criticism of myself cuts deep and it’s awful how much I subjugate myself to my own verbal abuse. It’s because I abuse my potential. I was not born in the right time and I abuse that thought to make me feel better for being an utter failure. The world is not meant for me, I’m meant for a time past. I think my talents reside in radio and writing. Each being a dying breed of media. If I don’t make it anywhere, then this sentence is pretty fucking pitiful. However, you won’t know it.

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