Things hurt
Everything hurts today.
From my neck to my shoulders, through to my forearms and hand and back again through my calves and hips. The best parts are the places that feel like I'm slowly puncturing myself with something in the lateral side of my arm through to my thumb and index finger and the stabbing pain I get when I type.
Sitting up straight takes more effort than it does to dull the sounds of uncertainty bouncing around in my head, telling me I am not enough of an intellectual. I can't remember art references and theories even if I could understand them well enough in the first place.
It's hard to focus.
From my neck to my shoulders, through to my forearms and hand and back again through my calves and hips. The best parts are the places that feel like I'm slowly puncturing myself with something in the lateral side of my arm through to my thumb and index finger and the stabbing pain I get when I type.
Sitting up straight takes more effort than it does to dull the sounds of uncertainty bouncing around in my head, telling me I am not enough of an intellectual. I can't remember art references and theories even if I could understand them well enough in the first place.
It's hard to focus.
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