I figure I've spent 15 minutes every night since then in front of the mirror, which means I've wasted about 2,192 hours of my life on this icky ritual.

I started picking my skin when I was around 11. I'll continue to poke and prod at dozens of barely-there flaws until it's time to let my husband in the bathroom to brush his teeth-or I need to get the first aid kit to tend to the gory mess I've made. I'll scan for a blemish or a blocked pore, then attack. Never mind that it's still dark enough for a head lamp-I have to spackle the zit I've picked into scabrous oblivion. And it seems the faster I run the less I get done and I don't know why.It's 5:40 A.M., and I'm applying concealer before a run. I'm feeling like I'm running out of time, moving forward but I'm still behind. Make eleven, and a fear fire sitting right next to em. So high I'm riding next to known like eleven fifty-seven. What's beef like when the steaks is well? So high they let me gamble in a separate room. Trying to eat right for the sake of my health. They airing it, I'm racing myself, impatient with myself. Let em know I'm doing fine, I got some girls on go, let em know when they fine.

Talk to my homies in the cell on the cell, someone out of time. I'd rather put it in my rhymes than have somebody dropped down, have my body can find. And it seems the faster I run the less I get done and I don't know why. It's understood, sometimes good just ain't good enough. I'm going through it as well, I consider myself and my music as means for me to motivate. Even though I really know I can't avoid fate, nor ignore hate. No place like home, fourth base, slide through for a play just to feel more safe. Getting higher by the day, reminds you of the divorce rate. Fast forward to a service in a church, a funeral or a court date. What you want is what you feel farthest from, but you feel you deserve it, huh? I don't feel like my nerves is numb, impervious like I just started this song. We just waiting on a break through but it ain't occurred to us to keep waiting. Oh I'm feeling like I'm running out of time, running out of time. What time is it? No time like the present.

Tell me why im waiting prod. hatemyself