Hi, Self, I write this letter for you not because you seems so desperate for cheesy lovey dovey lame letter. No, I know you definetely don’t. I write this because you frustate me incredibly and it’s so confusing. Just how, how?
How could someone be so contradictory? How could you like someone and not wanting to be with them? How could you be so lazy, but also fear failure? How could you want to be a friend to people (?????), but also be distrusting? How could you give yourself pep talks, but also bring yourself to the ground? You’re like a ball of strings, a tangled, chaotic mess. I’m so exhausted, of trying to unravel you, of trying to believe that there’ll be something good at the end. Your threadbare excuses dont help either. You’re just like an onion, the more layers I peel, the more I cry.
From: The Other Part of Yourself
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