September 22. Nothing.
I am not good. I am not virtuous. I am not sympathetic. I am not generous. I am merely and above all a creature of intense passionate feeling. I feel—everything. It is my genius. It burns me like fire.
i hate that i literally cant tell if im ugly or not and i cant tell if im really fat or just like kinda fat i literally cant tell and sometimes ill be like “im just being dumb im pretty good looking” and then ill be like “wow im being so egotistical i definitely look like shit what am i talking about” like i just…. dont know and it bothers me so much cos it’s something i can’t understand