there's these moments where I can't help but cringe. the discomfort is really specific, like the curdling noise of Styrofoam being meddled with. and... i smile involuntarily, ironically. and... i started speaking (really just whispering to myself) with my hands like an angry girl who's about to fight. because i am about to fight. myself that is. i have enough sense to scream at my sisyphean dumb ***** self, so why can't i use that same sense to squash her before she does more damage? hindsight only does so much when i end up in the same lonely spot endlessly.
sorry for being ****** but it was kinda therapeutic