Its Fine, Really

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'Really its okay, I'm fine.'

I sit here and tell myself this over and over thinking that I might just believe it one of these days. 

But other days I don't need to tell myself I already know I'm doomed and can't be saved. All I ever wanted was to be happy, to be loved, to not have a care in the world. I just want to be happy, to be confident in the things I do. I hate everything I do. I remember when I loved painting, now I sit and look at my past work in disappointment. I point out all the flaws, all the crooked and shaky lines. It reminds me of all the mistakes I made in life thus far. It makes me wonder how long I'm gonna be here to make the same mistakes, how much longer do I have to make more and more mistakes? I wish I had a definite date of my death so I knew the time I had left, so I could fix all of this. Maybe I only have 10 or 15 years left. That's not a lot of time if you look at it. Most people have their whole life figured out by now, they're either going to college of have something they know they want to succeed in. Me? I don't have a clue in the world, I'm stuck with all these 'what ifs'

What if I died tomorrow?

What if I never get to say goodbye?

What if no one notices?

What if this is all just a huge nightmare?

I really need to stop thinking about all of this, fuck.

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