'if you look for perfection, you'll never be contented'
contrary to what people believed, i'm actually a perfectionist by nature(though i may not appear to be one). and i care ALOT about what other people think/expect of me so much so that i really wonder if the life i'm living is mine or just a play directed by others
(i think those two points above are the root of my problem)
sometimes i just wish that i'm braindead for a while because i'm fucking sick and tired attending to these thoughts that will never stop
they come haunting me mercilessly, while i'm stuck in a small spot with the four walls roaring its face at me, and together with the ceiling and the ground, they edge closer, closer and closer, squeezing me till i eventually vanish into thin air
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