bitter much?
yeah i’m bitter

never gonna be one of the group
one of the guys
we don’t share friends
we only share lies

what the **** is my problem?
its you
its true

you lie to me
cover it up
i’m too far ahead
watch you clean it up

i pretend that i don’t
exhausted, overwhelmed
the kind of pain in my chest that i can’t scream out

i wake up and
everything hurts

***** inspo and thinspo
and online shopping
***** book clubs
and parties
cleaning and mopping
***** whining
and dining
lying and stalking
***** radio hosts
and all their
nonstop talking
***** everything
that ever made me sad
when i’m starving so much
that i think ive gone mad
start a fight cause i’m hungry
it’ll end when i’m not
ask- is this life worth living?
cause it’s all that i got

just “ok”
because that’s so you
making plans
with no follow through

thank god i can’t write good poetry
the best poetry comes from pain and hurt if you ask me
so although i can’t write like i used to
at least it means i’m doing alright

i went to sleep late
woke up hazy and grey
i rolled out of bed
to face a new, ugly day
i said it was over
i wish that thought stayed
but you're still a ******* liar
so nothing has changed

starving myself
into submission
the casual result
of unchecked ambition
the focusing factors
the aderall
and ritalin
try to drown me but
i hang tight
on the sight
of an unbroken vision
my actions, my words
under constant revision
revisit the sites
where i break
down decisions
had options
i lost them in
thoughtless
metacognition
and
i know i’m long gone
cause i’m stuck in remission

i swear to god i'm gonna die
in one of these nameless steakhouses
to a backtrack of classical jazz
with my back straight
and my legs crossed
in a pretty dress
and stockings
my hair pulled up tight
(i have a headache- no one cares)
when i get handed a menu,
i barely look
i'm getting the cheapest salad
because that's polite, right?