Being stuck in a place where I am not satisfied is like always burning a fire, inside your own throat, allowing the ashes to scatter down to your heart.
Always constantly comparing yourself to others is like dark poison that you are injecting into your own brain.
You are stabbing yourself in the back.
You are pinching your own nerves.
You are the one pushing yourself off the cloud.
But it never really helps,telling myself this,
picking scabs has always been a beloved passion.