Life doesn't play fair because it doesn't have to.
It doesn't care if you look in the mirror and hate yourself. It sure as hell doesn't care what you do about that hate either. That meal you didn't eat,
those scars on your arms, those pills you just took…it’s only affecting your
life. It doesn't matter that your daddy never calls or your mom doesn't notice.
Who really cares if those little pink lines last a week or a year? Life really doesn't give a damn. It’s going to keep going with or without you. They say
there are plenty of people with lives that suck worse than yours. Who are they
to say that your problems don’t matter compared to theirs? Your dad left when
you were little? Yeah, I’m sorry. I almost got raped when I was sixteen. Does
that make my cut any deeper than yours? Does that make your hurt worse than
mine? Does it make it okay to take a bow and hope you get a standing ovation
for fucking up your life?
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