When You Grow Up Completely Inadequate And Below-average: No Good At Conversation, Or Sports, Or Looks,
when you grow up completely inadequate and below-average: no good at conversation, or sports, or looks, or intelligence, no passion or talent—
self destruction is a neat party trick for a while; you're a child proidgy until you find out kids years younger are reaching into their skin and starving to a rot
is it really extraordinary once you turn 14?
is your hurt enough once it becomes bearable?
are you poetry after the poem has finished?
but now it's too late too little, you've long since abandoned identity in favour of the much more rewarding role of "sick"
you lack the skill to turn this nothingness into somethingness, pain into art that used to be implied with your youth
sit with it now
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