i am inadequacy, as in i feel like there is no reason for you to want my company, that i am not what other people can be, with me you don't get the best of both worlds, maybe i am so attainable and that makes me unattractive, i feel like beauty is something that should be effortless and should come from laughing and talking rather than touching and seeing. that is not real life.
art can only get you so far, but it is why i am a human and not an animal. i feel smaller and smaller and smaller and smaller every day until i will just one day be a speck or a blemish in your memory somewhere and when you find me you will just be annoyed, annoyed like you get annoyed when you spill ink on a drawing where there should be none or annoyed like when you find yourself downstairs to get something and can't begin to remember why you're there. just come back.
sex sells
