Horror-movie distortion of reality

And I shuffled through clothes in my closet, not one felt right. “What is this thing with ‘feeling right’ anyway? Why do I think about lucky clothes and stuff every time I pick something to wear?” I thought. I was so angry at myself and picked the most bad-luck jeans I had and said “fuck that shit, my future doesn’t depend on that kind of tricks”. Then I passed in front of the mirror, and “fuck I am ugly,” I told myself. I hated what I saw in the mirror. Whom do I try to con all the time ? Trying to look pretty or to be something else? In that moment, everything else just felt apart, all the superfluous, all the things I half-believed in and I half-loved. And my hair, all falling out, I could not understand why my hair was thinning and falling so excessively, and there was nothing I could do to stop it, nor to understand the cause. It was so sudden and without any possible explanation. I talked to myself. Loud. I wanted to bang my head and crack it open. I wanted to tear my remaining hair out. I wanted to scratch open my skin.
I just wanted to die.

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