I'm the maker of my monsters

I thought of John Smith. How Miley Cyrus and I have the same brain. That I frequently see your name on signs I've passed by daily. Tried to carry on the Hannah Horvath way by pursuing what I can manage. I ignored the doubts. Forgot what I was here for. Lost track of the time and money. The effort was nothing I'm not used to though. It's long overdue to claim that lost. I forgot that one critique I had denied. I see it now and I stand ashamed and embarrassed.

Aren't I nothing but sick and manipulative? Pity me please as I lust for those feelings of nothing, expect something in return, and point fingers everywhere else but into the mirror. Because loneliness isn't enough. Because I was okay once and didn't trust it.

Will someone give a shit for me?