This is literally the saddest story I've ever told.
This life.
I've ruined it.
I can't do anything to fix what I've screwed up. I've burned bridges, I've ruined chances of having a meaningful career, and I can't even be the person I want to be. I've made up this illusion that I've given to absolutely everyone, and I did it so often, I started to believe it.
I lived in this fake world. I was trying to be a counter-culture, awesome, strong, strong, strong Barbie. I tried to be cooler than cool, the individual, influenced by no one when in reality everything comes from somebody's facebook. A repost of a repost of a repost.
I don't think I'll amount to anything.
It's because I hate myself for being such a loser, but too much complacency with where I am now is what keeps me from moving.
I'm trying to impress, manipulate, and MacGuyver when I'm not impressive, crafty or smart.
I'm depressed. It's why I smoke.
I have ruined me.
Here is where there is no chances for me.
I have lied and been lied to. I am hurting for want of so much more than what I can get. I wanted love. Oh, I wanted to be loved, but no one loves a fuck up. Especially one as useless as me. For Christ's sake, a hostess at a PF Changs? There is nothing awesome about that. I don't know what I have been telling myself, but I can say that they don't care about me. They'll pretend to care. All freaking day they'll pretend to care and turn around and stab me in the back.
I thought I was so fucking cool, HOSTESS #1
I'm the biggest fucking joke.
I'm not strong. I cry. I hate it, but I cry and it feels good.
I'm not smart or witty. I'm quick to say what you want to hear so you'll like me.
I'm not even pretty. What do I have to offer, to anyone?
I can give you a sob story. I can give you something to fix. I can be something for you to use, but I can think of just a couple of people who would be willing to beat the shit out of anyone who does that. And one of them is 17 and probably couldn't.
There's nothing special about me except for the color of my eyes, which isn't even all that uncommon, and the size of my breasts, which prove useful in temporarily boosting my self esteem, but then I remember they're being boosted by an old Victoria's Secret push-up and all is lost. Literally, they fall to the sides when I lay down and it looks gross. :/
I was used by the sickest, saddest masochistic puppydog of a man. He wouldn't even tell me he wasn't interested anymore. He didn't want to hurt my feelings.
I screwed up. I oversaturated his living space with my essence. I was there too much. Why couldn't I be like Boeke and keep my distance in the beginning? Being in Ireland didn't count. I wanted to be him, that's why. I wanted to know everything about him to escape my void of a life.
I don't want to be in school. I don't want to be alone. I want to be loved by a man that I love. I want someone who appeals to me in a way that keeps me guessing everyday, but at the same time I don't want to have to question whether or not he really wants me. I want to be physically attracted to him. I'm not going to settle for Freeman. He's fat and smells bad and has awful teeth. I refuse to deal with that.
I want to be the center of attention, but I want to be able to reciprocate that because I want to, not have to.
Why couldn't I just be like Boeke? Smart, driven, normal? Sure, she has awful taste in music, but my jaded faded so far gone desensitized brain has left me with such little humanity that I can't even pretend that I want to go back to being more innocent.
But I do. I do want to be innocent again. I want to go back to where it all began, slap myself in the face and tell myself to "figure it out now or you're gonna regret every complacent and comfortable place you have ever been in."
I wanted to be Rebecca. I wanted to have ROBBIE to myself for a year and a half, but minus the relationship based on watching television and having sex.
I wanted to be Lauren. So fucking good at manipulating people to get what she wants that she made Robbie fall in love with her and broke his little heart because he wasn't good enough.
Part of me wants that power, but the other part of me wants to keep being good and leave people well enough alone. Here is the part where I weigh the pros and cons of each choice, but I don't think I'm smart enough to do it successfully or willing enough to put forth the effort. I'm a lazy fuck-up. I don't want to be nice anymore. I want what I want and everyone else can eat a dick.
I've ruined it.
I can't do anything to fix what I've screwed up. I've burned bridges, I've ruined chances of having a meaningful career, and I can't even be the person I want to be. I've made up this illusion that I've given to absolutely everyone, and I did it so often, I started to believe it.
I lived in this fake world. I was trying to be a counter-culture, awesome, strong, strong, strong Barbie. I tried to be cooler than cool, the individual, influenced by no one when in reality everything comes from somebody's facebook. A repost of a repost of a repost.
I don't think I'll amount to anything.
It's because I hate myself for being such a loser, but too much complacency with where I am now is what keeps me from moving.
I'm trying to impress, manipulate, and MacGuyver when I'm not impressive, crafty or smart.
I'm depressed. It's why I smoke.
I have ruined me.
Here is where there is no chances for me.
I have lied and been lied to. I am hurting for want of so much more than what I can get. I wanted love. Oh, I wanted to be loved, but no one loves a fuck up. Especially one as useless as me. For Christ's sake, a hostess at a PF Changs? There is nothing awesome about that. I don't know what I have been telling myself, but I can say that they don't care about me. They'll pretend to care. All freaking day they'll pretend to care and turn around and stab me in the back.
I thought I was so fucking cool, HOSTESS #1
I'm the biggest fucking joke.
I'm not strong. I cry. I hate it, but I cry and it feels good.
I'm not smart or witty. I'm quick to say what you want to hear so you'll like me.
I'm not even pretty. What do I have to offer, to anyone?
I can give you a sob story. I can give you something to fix. I can be something for you to use, but I can think of just a couple of people who would be willing to beat the shit out of anyone who does that. And one of them is 17 and probably couldn't.
There's nothing special about me except for the color of my eyes, which isn't even all that uncommon, and the size of my breasts, which prove useful in temporarily boosting my self esteem, but then I remember they're being boosted by an old Victoria's Secret push-up and all is lost. Literally, they fall to the sides when I lay down and it looks gross. :/
I was used by the sickest, saddest masochistic puppydog of a man. He wouldn't even tell me he wasn't interested anymore. He didn't want to hurt my feelings.
I screwed up. I oversaturated his living space with my essence. I was there too much. Why couldn't I be like Boeke and keep my distance in the beginning? Being in Ireland didn't count. I wanted to be him, that's why. I wanted to know everything about him to escape my void of a life.
I don't want to be in school. I don't want to be alone. I want to be loved by a man that I love. I want someone who appeals to me in a way that keeps me guessing everyday, but at the same time I don't want to have to question whether or not he really wants me. I want to be physically attracted to him. I'm not going to settle for Freeman. He's fat and smells bad and has awful teeth. I refuse to deal with that.
I want to be the center of attention, but I want to be able to reciprocate that because I want to, not have to.
Why couldn't I just be like Boeke? Smart, driven, normal? Sure, she has awful taste in music, but my jaded faded so far gone desensitized brain has left me with such little humanity that I can't even pretend that I want to go back to being more innocent.
But I do. I do want to be innocent again. I want to go back to where it all began, slap myself in the face and tell myself to "figure it out now or you're gonna regret every complacent and comfortable place you have ever been in."
I wanted to be Rebecca. I wanted to have ROBBIE to myself for a year and a half, but minus the relationship based on watching television and having sex.
I wanted to be Lauren. So fucking good at manipulating people to get what she wants that she made Robbie fall in love with her and broke his little heart because he wasn't good enough.
Part of me wants that power, but the other part of me wants to keep being good and leave people well enough alone. Here is the part where I weigh the pros and cons of each choice, but I don't think I'm smart enough to do it successfully or willing enough to put forth the effort. I'm a lazy fuck-up. I don't want to be nice anymore. I want what I want and everyone else can eat a dick.