I wish I could accept the normality of having disorder in life. I’d never thought my “perfect” life would be dull mechanical routines that must be followed or else the dreadful sense of guilt would serve me as a punishment if I ever venture to break this flawless fixed cycle - as if the closer I get to daring to break it, the more intensifying the guilt will be and the more I’d spend time loathing myself for not obeying the rules I once set for myself. Yet having these bring immense pleasure when they pay off in the end; and still, may this disgusting perfection be good to all in some way, I still desire to get rid of it to live as I wish, not as I am expected to or supposed to - I wish I weren’t devoured by the devil of inferiority every time I dare to just be.
Late night thoughts.
Late night thoughts.