There are thoughts in my head.There are real thoughts in my head. I think these thoughts that are in my head. Now, the problem is that they’re in my head and every time I think up thoughts, my head wants to take what is in my head out of my head.Out of my head and into another person’s. Out of my head and into yours.
When you look at it, it’s narcissistic.
Why on earth should I want to put what is in my head into your head- through your nerves, eyes and computer screens?
What room of illusions and mirrors am I caged in, which, when I have a thought, throws it back at me?
How dare you.
How crude.
How petty, how shallow.
Why does the world need your words?
What fake sense of entitlement has led you to believe that there is a need for the world to hear your words?
How little.
How banal and kitsch of you.
Why do you believe you must make another hear you?
How grandiose.
How purposeless.
How pitiful, that you believe the world must see your amateur work, another printed face in a tide of common ink.
How sorry it is that you consider your being is worth cheering.

And as I think, I blink and decide, that the fact that I’m the worst should not hide.



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