suffocating myself under a mountain of clothes is fine, as long as they're thrifted.
who's gonna dog on someone who's literally saving the environment? besides ((my new favourite influencer)), she thrifts all her clothes and she's literally an icon, public diva #1.
that lump of hard, bitter coal in my throat is washed away by the latest hojicha that i bought from the shop that opened down the street. i gag.
why did i buy this? i hate tea.
i scratch the flavour off my tongue, my nails digging deep into my flesh. there's blood all over my new labubu inspired nails.
i don't feel good, i hate not feeling good.
mouth is coated with blood, i grab my IT GIRL (trademarked) tissue paper. i could grab a towel - but dior made these. the red that soaks this paper is worthy of my suffering.
that doesn't bother me though, i think i'm embodying suchhhhh a euphoria aesthetic right now.
can this AMEX black card be sharpened to cut through my veins? i so desperately need that rush.
my veneers grind against each other, my teeth burning in pain. i claw my forearms, i reach for a cigarette.
i need something so badly, anything just anything, please.
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