a poem practically written by my inner critic

they’re all watching you. you know that? and they’re all going to see you when you fall. because you will fall. and someday, you’re not going to be able to glue the shattered pieces back together and they’ll laugh. and they’ll kiss their lovers, and they’ll have a big, fancy ball.

and oh, my little whipping girl. you’d better be ready, when they come for you. claw, and tooth, and all. 

because it’s a scary world out there, you know. and is this really what you want to do for the rest of your life, until your body turns cold?

because i can feel the tremors in your hands. the scars spreading across your skin. and you had better fucking know that not a shred of your self-esteem is making it out alive from this.

and i know you want to tell them to truth. but maybe a little girl like you just… isn’t strong enough to.


With the upcoming release of my podcast, I’ve really been struggling with anxiety and self-consciousness. It’s scary, releasing this big project you’ve been working on for months–to people who may or may not even like it, and knowing full well that no one could even look at it, and although you can advertise the heck out of it, ultimately, you can’t control what people think of this thing you poured your heart into. And maybe people will hate it. I’m in no way a stranger to that feeling, but… well, with all of the other added stresses of a podcast release, plus keeping up with schoolwork, it hasn’t exactly been great.

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