my mind right now

I have been stressing, stressing to the point that my body is feeling the fatigue and tension that my own brain and heart and soul carry.
My life is empty.
My life is worthless.
So why do I care so much about what happens in it?
Why does every day seem so significant.
So important to execute it perfectly.
Every word, every movement must be perfect,
and yet...
it never is,
the more I try to be perfect,
the more I strive for normality,
the farther away from it I become.
What is normal?
Should I be an empty-headed pretty face
a stick figure, anorexic psychopath
a psuedo intellectual poet
A charming witty girl
I don't know what I should be
I don't know what normal is
but I do know that it is what is expected of me
or...
am I expected to be this unique, individual?
Must I always have a witty comment on hand?
Is that how I make up fo rht efact that I am not just a pretty face
that I weigh more than 100 pounds
As I write this I glance back at what I have written, and there are so many type os why are they called type os?
What in the hell do o's have to do with it?
What's wrong with me?
There are crumbs in my keyboard.
Must be because I have to find multiple purposes for everything.
I just wish I knew what to do
Wait...
I do know what I should do
The problem is,
I can never seem to find the motivation to do it.