Categories Are Gibberish To Me. I Understand

I Really Don't Think Anything I Do Is A Mistake. It Could Be If I Didn't Learn From It.

I Had Really Bad Obsessive-compulsive Disorder. At Its Worst, I Was Compelled To Leave My House At Three O'clock In The Morning And Go Out In The Alley Because I Just Knew That The Paper-towel Roll I Threw In The Recycling Bin Was Uncomfortable, Like It Was Lying The Wrong Way, And I Would Be Down In The Garbage.

I'm Not A Functional Person Because I Don't Go On Lunch Dates With Friends. I Hear About People Having Dinner Parties But I Never Do That. I'm Not Really Human.

I Took Off My Glasses While You Were Yelling At Me Once More Than Once So As Not To See You See Me React. Should've Put 'em, Should've Put 'em On Again So I Could See You See Me Sincerely Yelling Back.

I Don't Want To Make This Sound Negative At All, But In The Best Way Possible I Freaking Give Up. I Give Up. You Can't Try And Make Your Life Perfect. I'm Just Trying To Have A Good Time, And I'm Just Trying To Appreciate The Things That I Have Around Me. I Give Up On The 'dream' Dream. I Think That It's All A Dream. I Think It's All Wonderful And Terrible. And I Give Up In The Nicest Way.