Conversations With Anxiety: Fucking Go to Sleep Already, Whitney

Highest Form of Whit

The later I stay up, the more time my mind has to be an asshole.

Hey, Whitney. You aren’t going to finish your thesis. You won’t have a place to live when you move back. You suck at yoga. Your face is breaking out. You don’t have a job anymore. How does it feel to be broke? You’re pretty worthless, you know that? That person that you like doesn’t really like you all that much. You’re a terrible person for not disclosing all of your personal information from the onset like the fact that sometimes you pick your dog’s eyegoobers and then feed them to him. Your mom thinks you’re fat and your dog wants to bite you for not walking him and your best friend met your favorite basketball player and they’re going to elope and leave you behind and on top of ALL OF THOSE THINGS all of…

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