seven, actually

Seven, actually. Keep count of the years you haven’t felt. Cut off your nose to spite your face; cut off your brain to spite yourself. You don’t have to kill yourself if you kill your emotions first, new wave suicide, empty shells with cleaned-out heads. Factory reset yourself. A shattered face with a squeaky clean inside. You have new car smell with old car black exhaust. My lungs are full of tar.

How old are you? Cut open your liver and count the rings. Existence tastes like water but life tastes like blood.

It’s okay if you’re confused. Life isn’t supposed to make sense. Switch off your brain on the Sabbath because God doesn’t like thinkers. Think too hard and everything stops mattering. Truth isn’t real and the only person that cares about you is yourself. If you’re not proud of your life then lie.

Start method acting and steal the parts you like. I have a pick n mix personality with chameleon skin. I’ll be whoever you want except your teacher. I don’t know what stress feels like and I don’t understand your emotions - they don’t work like mine because mine don’t work. Your homework assignment is to go home and cry. Bottle the tears for me and I’ll drink them in my coffee. They will taste stale. Seven years stale.