nope

it all sucks

fuck it

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Accept exceptions except the exceptions to the accepting exceptions injunction

I need to write more

 

at least I think so

sometimes it’s hard to tell if this thing is helping me or focusing all my self

depricating tendencies

My new therepist says I’m passive

But I’m pretty sure he’s a moron who probably thinks I’m some sort of wimp

But I’m not

Really

I actually hate most things; I guess that includes me if you make a whole list

 

But it’s okay, I guess

I just want someone to yell at

Someone who has to listen

Someone I pay to take it all in

I pay to absolve my own guilt

Maybe 700 last year wasn’t quite enough

Enough is always a short hand for more than you have

But I think I have what I need

Except I need to accept it.

Except needing to accept it,

I have what I need.

I need to accept that I have it and accept it’s glad to have me.

I guess I don’t have enough then

Classic human condition

Maybe I’ll laugh a little and then go to sleep

 

Sorry, not dead

I always hated being called poet
but I guess shoe fits.
it’s certainly a
suitable nominal title
even though I never majored in English.

and sure I never read Austin
it’s okay; neither did they.
they only wrote a bunch of essays
and haven’t since the day they graduated

I guess now we’re on the same page

I’m admittedly a slow reader
fast learner
persistent do-er

with

no clue how the sociohistorical context reflects any way I try to create.
you really think that was on the mind of any single one of the greats?

I mean maybe.

I don’t know.

I haven’t studied.

It’s okay.
You can shut me up easily.
I fall swiftly to someone seeming more pretentious than me.

(Yes
I know it’s “I”
go away)

I spent most of my morning
looking for my phone
pressing a button
collecting imaginary resources
until my bag was full.

But I wanted to ask Ben
if the upgrade was worth is
if the ex was worth the cost.

A bit worried about the
slight pain in my gums,
I feel  a bit lucky
I’m finally able to worry
about such small problems.

Breathe deep

and realize I haven’t
in 5 months.

Exhale.

Why do I fear
the internet
doesn’t want
to hear I’m
happy?
I’ve been staying
quiet. But I
promise I’ve
been writing.
I don’t really
know much
to say.
Is this
relatable
enough?
I don’t know
how to express
any of this stuff.