We're Headed Up My Mom's Ass!

Today I'm an asshole and I won't accept that that's just how the cookie crumbles.

A few years ago I made a ridiculous pro-life word jumble that I thought was pretty hilarious. I made sure to include all the buzzwords one could handle. I guess in my zeal to try and make a joke or 'push the envelope' I included more righteousness than one could actually handle.

I want to feel at once incredibly sensible, intelligent,humourous and well liked, I routinely find myself falling short of those goals. I'm trying to decide whether it's because I'm a loveable fuck-up that sets the bar too high or is that I'm truly a callous jerk.

Sometimes I think scratching away my skin will remove the callouses. Like some terrible Jawbreaker imagery come to life ('Brush my teeth until they break, until they start bleeding/So when I smile I'll know I'm almost good enough for you')
It just makes the wound raw.

When I get anxious I actually do scratch my skin. It's because of eczema. It makes me look like a leper and I'm not, I just got bad genes. Yesterday I was anxious for some reason or another and I ended up scratching a good portion of my finger. I ended up getting laundry detergent all in my wound and damnit if it hasn't stunk all day. I hate being reminded me that sometimes I'm compulsive to a fault.