mental health
Talking with Myself
An internal conversation turns self-criticism into an uncomfortable form of honesty.
Hi, It’s me. Yeah I know. You only come to me when you’re struggling with your emotions and shit. Hey, be kind. I’m you. You can’t be that mad at yours.. Oh. yeah. Now you get it. Fine, What did I do this time? Nothing. And? Nothing. That’s the issue. You had everything perfectly aligned to your happiness and you did nothing. I thought that’s the point when things are lining up? No you fucking Idiot. Nobody can believe that shit. You need to do something in order for things to happen. Oh. You fucking donkey. Now what? Now Wha.. Are you fucking listening to me? Or Are you just that dumb. Hey, again, I’m you. Be kind. I have things going on and I don’t have time to be rational everytime. That’s why you’re here. Ok fine. Ugh, It irks me to say this but I think for now, Just wait. Don’t screw it up more than you have already done.