Last one was an up...so this has to be a down
Well I realized that that one fucked up friend is psycho. I didn't do anything wrong, she is just crazy. She needs to get over herself.
Anywho, weekend felt like a week. Superbowl party = ate waaaaaaaaay too much, and I haven't stopped since. Pizza, breadsticks, pop...all tonight!
I got some scores back. Realized that I'm stupid. At least on the S.A.T.'s. Which is another reason for that psycho friend to have something against me; she's perfect at everything, I'm not...therefore, we shouldn't be friends. At least that's her reasoning. I really do not like her anymore. I don't care how many good times we had, she is freakin' psycho. Waaaaaaaaaay too uptight for me. Seriously...just lay back, enjoy life, and let everything go. Everything works out in the end anyway. I don't care that your self-discipline has paid off so that you have a perfect waist. I'd rather be liked by many than too uptight and a bitch to my real friends.
That paragraph wasn't supposed to be about her, but I still have stuff to say.
I want a boy. Too bad I'm ugly as hell....no really, I am. I have a pig nose, a double chin, ugly/crooked/sick teeth (which ='s ugggggly smile), and...well, I'm obese. I'm never going to have a perfect, romantic boyfriend. Never going to get married on a summer night with all my good friends there. Never going to have four kids and live in the country. I'm never going to have this life that I've dreamed of for forever because I'm ugly; by genetics and choices/consequences. I freakin' hate myself. I'll be an ugly, fat widow who has no life; a boy-lover/obsessor-turned-feminist, hippie, gray-haired psychologist. I can just imagine it now. I'll live in a run down, old, brown, ugly house with some hampsters and dogs. And I'll drink tea everyday and have 57 half-written autobiographies on my hard drive because I have writers block. And I'll die a fat, ugly loser with mutual sympathetic friends from church at the funeral.
Great. There's my life. A real look into the future. I wish it didn't have to be like that.
Anywho, weekend felt like a week. Superbowl party = ate waaaaaaaaay too much, and I haven't stopped since. Pizza, breadsticks, pop...all tonight!
I got some scores back. Realized that I'm stupid. At least on the S.A.T.'s. Which is another reason for that psycho friend to have something against me; she's perfect at everything, I'm not...therefore, we shouldn't be friends. At least that's her reasoning. I really do not like her anymore. I don't care how many good times we had, she is freakin' psycho. Waaaaaaaaaay too uptight for me. Seriously...just lay back, enjoy life, and let everything go. Everything works out in the end anyway. I don't care that your self-discipline has paid off so that you have a perfect waist. I'd rather be liked by many than too uptight and a bitch to my real friends.
That paragraph wasn't supposed to be about her, but I still have stuff to say.
I want a boy. Too bad I'm ugly as hell....no really, I am. I have a pig nose, a double chin, ugly/crooked/sick teeth (which ='s ugggggly smile), and...well, I'm obese. I'm never going to have a perfect, romantic boyfriend. Never going to get married on a summer night with all my good friends there. Never going to have four kids and live in the country. I'm never going to have this life that I've dreamed of for forever because I'm ugly; by genetics and choices/consequences. I freakin' hate myself. I'll be an ugly, fat widow who has no life; a boy-lover/obsessor-turned-feminist, hippie, gray-haired psychologist. I can just imagine it now. I'll live in a run down, old, brown, ugly house with some hampsters and dogs. And I'll drink tea everyday and have 57 half-written autobiographies on my hard drive because I have writers block. And I'll die a fat, ugly loser with mutual sympathetic friends from church at the funeral.
Great. There's my life. A real look into the future. I wish it didn't have to be like that.