Perfect Garbage

(Everyone is so afraid to just let everyone know what's swirling around inside. I'm not.)

So particular. Everything has to be perfect. Nothing is good enough, When I dismiss the not good enough I start crying and nothing works. I am hopeless. I am nothing. I am having a moment. I have nothing. I am nothing. I am the nothing.

Nobody understands the depths to which I am there with this mindset. I *AM* the nothing. Such a zen moment. Not really though since I cannot really let go of the feeling I have for her. But it's not there. It's *NOT* there. I have nothing for her. Only her sex remains. And it's feeble at best. It's a shallow garbage feeling surrounded by hormones.

It's so familiar and it's just a garbage feeling.
Surrounded by hormones.