And it’s funny how I feel the most pretty when I’m lying in my bed, in pajamas all day and having talked to no one and it’s funny how I feel the most content procrastinating, knowing I’ll be miserable with homework come the evening and it’s funny how I feel more free and myself at school where I hide my interests, experiences, and emotions under a surprisingly authentic comedy mask than at home and it’s funny how no matter how much I say “I’m cooked,” I never worry until I’m in tears at 12 and it’s funny how I feel like I bear no ill will towards myself until some hateful thought comes sneaking in and it’s funny how I think with cheerful certainty that I love being alive, and hate myself and it’s funny how I feel the most energetic when I’ve slept for only two hours and it’s funny how I laugh when I feel broken and it’s funny how saying I’m making progress makes me happier than the idea of actually being better and it’s funny how I know I’m destroying myself slowly but don’t care and it’s funny how everything that seems like a victory only leads to me deteriorating more and it’s funny how that makes me want to laugh and it’s funny how I smile the brightest and the hollow-est when I hate someone and it’s funny how every single thing that makes me happy either stops making me happy or is ultimately bad for my health, and it’s just a little less funny but a whole lot more ironic that I am enjoying wasting away
Wow haha that was long angsty and poetic alrighty then