Few Clouds, 20°C
Sometimes I wanna drive myself off an ocean cliff. Its a weird fantasy that I'll never have the guts to do.
But I imagine what it'd be like. Would I die on impact from the glass shattering?
Splintering into my body. Would it Pierce my skull?heart?lungs?stomach? What's the likelihood I'd be saved. Hopefully slim to none.
I could just make things simpler. Head to eroupe and ask for euthanasia
Either way my heart aches. Not from anyone one person.
But a concoction of self loathing and pitty. The true belief I'll probably never amount to anything. The reality that my exsistence is as close to meaninglessness as the human right next to me. But yet I tell myself everyday I'm worth more.
My self worth is so low I often wonder what the market would pay for it.
At least if my intelligence served of little value my body could bring something forward. My eyes and hair would be pricey. Starting me off at what I would imagine $3000 an hour. My curves would quadruple that. $12000, sounds good?
And there I go overselling myself. Because the reality is some cam girl who is 100x hotter than me is online right now charging much less.
So why do I spend days telling myself I am more, could be more, want to be more. But manage to stop myself by plunging a dagger in my leg and yelling to the world I can't move and may never be able to again.
Self defeat. Why did we meet, and why are you staying for such a long visit.
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