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At worst I feel bad, and then I don’t smile. And then I feel like slinking onto the floor and melting into a puddle of black goo. I don’t know why my goo will be black when I have no black anywhere on my body except my pupils, but it seems the way it should be when a person melts into goo. Like a freaking Miyazaki movie or something. You ain’t been blue no no no no no no no…. you ain’t been blue til you had that mood indigo. Indigo like the sweat on the backs of slaves who grew it. Indigo as the color of the drink in which you attempt to drown yourself. Indigo as in bluer than blue. The blues always makes sadness and loneliness at least sound romantic, and they are in a way, but they also suck, especially when you’re busy trying to hide them from everyone, because no one likes a downer. Especially not a puddle of goo on the floor. People want to mop that shit up, throw it down the drain, make it go away before someone steps on it. Can you imagine how horrible it would be to be a mess? Someone steps on you, which hurts, and then they go “ew” because they find you disgusting. And they don’t even know you, they just find you gross because now you’re all over their shoe, which isn’t even your fault, because THEY should’ve been watching where they were going, and now they’re leaving with a piece of you, tramping it all over the rest of the floor, wiping it off on a mat, stomping on it. And you can never have that piece back. You’ll just have to reform into a walking, talking, functional person without it. You’ve got to get all your little droplets together yourself- you can’t just wait for someone to help you up, people will step all over you and take footprints away and you’ll hardly have anything to work with if you just wait. Quit being lazy and

PULL… YOURSELF… TOGETHER

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