Dying is an art, like every­thing else. I do it excep­tion­al­ly well.

—Sylvia Plath

I’m in a tran­si­tion phase. Living in self-destruc­tion. Building tol­er­ances to all the wrong things. Picking my scabs. Shedding skin. Killing a lit­tle bit of myself every day.

Trying to get it all out of my sys­tem.

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