I don’t give a fuck If everybody think I’m Hollywood If you talking about self love, I can be that Brown sugar, hot water, chamomile, tea bag Road trip out to the Ventura beach house When I think about it then I guess I could see how Everybody think I’m Hollywood I could see it How everybody think I’m Hollywood
Back on my bullshit, I was down bad They was kickin’ me when I was on my ass Now I’m back on my bullshit, every day, I grow Meditatin’ on the bluff when I’m low Said I’m back on my bullshit, dealin’ with the shame Let it go and told the devil get away Now I’m back on my bullshit, glad I made it home I was low but you know I never fold, bitch, yeah
“A degree of regret may sometimes be helpful: it can help us to take stock of errors and avoid the worst of the pitfalls next time. But runaway self-hatred serves no useful purpose whatsoever; it is, in its masochistic way, an indulgence we can’t afford.
We may be foolish, but this doesn’t single us out as particularly awful or unusual, it only confirms that we belong to the human race, a fact for which we deserve limitless sympathy and compassion.”