My OCD is getting bad bad, my mood swings are taking a toll, my hands are sweaty, my body image is deteriorating, all I can think about is imperfections, clinging onto things that hardly matter. I want escapance, I want to find my own peace, lost within my own spectrum of thoughts.
Everything is a lie. What lies within is unheard. All anxiety and fear rooting for ages. Negativity is always a dominant force. Once was I told, psychologists are the saddest people, some truth I myself hold onto it.
When I burst, do not blame that I did not speak. I am speaking, the faint of heat is not listening. Do not ask me what's wrong, the answer is nothing yet everything. Playing tricks with myself, is this real or just another delusional reel?
But when was I happy? Where is all this rooted? I am not posting pictures, I am posting feelings of my mind, colorless. Happiness is now just momentary.
Where is this child gone? The child who would wear the brightest dress with sneakers and run around the house. Where is this smile gone? The smile that could win against the world, could not care less about anything but no more. Lost is this little girl, in a rainbow of automatic thoughts.
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