The eerie irritability Of this disgustingly demeaning state I find my myself in, The essence of my existence, Every bit of what creates me, Grosses me to my very core It's a phase, a recurring feeling. Only once in a while, this once in a blue moon sorta thing Makes simply existing a chore. The minor failures, Become large enough to make me forget, All other achievements I worked for. This face turns quite simply, ugly As my pride and self respect slowly rots I turn into a hallowed figure, crawling Wanting help; support, Clinging to the first thing I find. Worst of all, I know it only last a few days And when it's gone, I'm empty again. Is it my need for approval, My weak character, Can I not stand on my own. What has all this come to?