her blanket kept getting tangled in between her legs and she couldn't get it right she couldn't get anything right. she drops her books one day and cries over what seems like nothing but is actually a big deal to her because it's a load of things, little things, that add up and up and up until nothing is right nothing is ever right or even okay. even 'okay' would be better than 'bad', than 'wrong'... she does her makeup perfectly but of course there's a zit. she cant thread the needle or she can't keep the camera still or she can't draw the lips right or she can't get a hold of herself and stop ******* up, but really it's not anything unusual she tells herself. everyone always says that no person is perfect or unflawed but then why does it always seem that way? why? why can't simple things work out ? nothing works !? nothing is okay, the air is slightly too stuffy and the bagel shop messed up her order. the bagel shop didn't mess up her friend's order. she lost her ten dollars and even though someone else offered to pay, she couldn't help but let that occurrence add up and up and up into that big pile of mumbo jumbo that is her misfortune. her thoughts are so muddy. they're so collective and her mind is so full of **** that she's just lost focus. her eyes are glazed and her hearing is muddled now because shes just so ******* tired of life never working ever . never working, always adding up, her big problems are worse and shes just so tired because nothing works life never works her brain  never works