99% of us is failure.
battered, bruised, and broken. i will not admit to this freely, but it’s clear in my eyes. i act like it’s okay, like getting shit on is no big deal.
my shoulders are heavy with the weight. this is me, trapped in my own head. i try to convince myself that things aren’t so horrible. maybe they are. maybe they aren’t. as usual, i take on the weight of the world. this time it’s my own world crashing around me.
but i paste a smile on my face. a shit-eating grin just to cover the truth. eventually i will supress the truth long enough until it disappears. i’m slowly convincing myself that the past month was just a figment of my imagination.
it can’t be all bad. i haven’t downed a pint of ben & jerry’s half-baked. clearly i’m doing better than i thought.