sometimes, it feels like i live most of my life inside my head. and not in the wildly creative sort of way. it's not even terribly entertaining.
i imagine conversations that i want to have, the ones i'll never really dare to anyway. where i am this person that i don't even think i want to be. when the situation presents itself, the conversation plays back in my head, and it's almost as if i'm watching myself from a distance, and i'm so busy laughing at myself, at the very idea that i might be that brave. and then the moment passes, and so does my opportunity to impress my own pathetic self.
i think this sort of insecurity, and insufficiency of the self, is the most tragic disease one can suffer.
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