Like gross.
I'm all gross. The most common thought I've been hearing in my head these couple days has been, "I hate myself." Typical, simple, and just in a medium way. I just feel bad. Humiliated by everything. And still not quite over my lust for cutting my own bangs. Humiliated mainly though. By the way I look, sit, walk, talk, my hair, my hairline, my neck my knees my calves, my arms my stomach... my eyes, my mouth, the distances between all of these things, their proportions and directions. It's sickening to think about any of it. Really. I'm driving myself bonkers with hating myself. I feel stupid and ugly. I feel stupider and uglier knowing that this is going to show up onto 51 friends' pages. I want not to have any friends. I want straight hair and a straight nose and straight everything. I want to look normal and think normaly and erase everything and everyone and start over. The people who know me know hot ugly and rotten I can be and so I secretly distrust them all. And I'm even starting to avoid them even more than I usually would. I just want to be in school, to be plain and beautiful looking and sharply dressed and only want to take art classes. Not even music, nothing that makes me feel like ass. I feel disgusting. I feel like I can't wash it off of me.
This is a little strange, but sniffing magazines does more for this... condition than anything else I've found. Really. Not the paper, but the combo of the pages and the different perfume samples. Together, in any magazine, they almost always smell like the same thing when it's all mixed up. Like magazine.
This is a little strange, but sniffing magazines does more for this... condition than anything else I've found. Really. Not the paper, but the combo of the pages and the different perfume samples. Together, in any magazine, they almost always smell like the same thing when it's all mixed up. Like magazine.