Spilling My Guts to a Keyboard
I'm going to go about this journal entirely separately as I have with my previous ones.
What aroused me to start with this again so suddenly and out of the blue was concerns of insecurity. No one particularly did this to me personally; it was nothing of the sort. It was everything I witness or hear everyday that essentially pushes me to the feeling. It's the society that I reside in that helped me to feel as though what I am and what I do, look, and feel isn't right, accepted, or good enough. I can't tell you that I don't care. I have no place to lie in my journal. I want to not give a damn and I do the best in my ability to display it while it slowly eats away in the back of my mind on a daily basis.
What I see is what you see and what you are told to want. I am not what anyone would depict as your ideal woman. This whole argument can be considered comical to me, depending on what I'm on or who I'm discussing this with that will influence my opinion.
I don't perceive myself as a very attractive individual. The adult material that's been something nearly every man in this society has become so fond of and virtually infatuated with the pornography for all of you to drool over. I'm doubting myself from what I see there and what I see with me. I know I sometimes want to look just like what you have always gotten stiff over. I, countlessly, would wonder if I was someone somebody would have any interest in climaxing to.
Evidently, I have no faith in my looks.
What provoked me to write this as the affair for this journal's entry was indulging into a million thoughts I always avoided. Why would I want to wonder why men were so into it? Why would I wonder why? That is the very point of this journal. I feel anxious and insecure wondering why about this. I know that every male I associate myself with spend their time watching and staring at it. I have always had a problem with it. The feeling will never go away.
This entry is brief and has little depth. I was distracted much too much and I can't really get into much detail unless I explain and compare myself to what I dislike or would like to have in order to feel competent. There is no reasoning going on, really... I'm only spilling what I have already reasoned. I just need to continue ignoring the feeling in order to allow this entry to end.
What aroused me to start with this again so suddenly and out of the blue was concerns of insecurity. No one particularly did this to me personally; it was nothing of the sort. It was everything I witness or hear everyday that essentially pushes me to the feeling. It's the society that I reside in that helped me to feel as though what I am and what I do, look, and feel isn't right, accepted, or good enough. I can't tell you that I don't care. I have no place to lie in my journal. I want to not give a damn and I do the best in my ability to display it while it slowly eats away in the back of my mind on a daily basis.
What I see is what you see and what you are told to want. I am not what anyone would depict as your ideal woman. This whole argument can be considered comical to me, depending on what I'm on or who I'm discussing this with that will influence my opinion.
I don't perceive myself as a very attractive individual. The adult material that's been something nearly every man in this society has become so fond of and virtually infatuated with the pornography for all of you to drool over. I'm doubting myself from what I see there and what I see with me. I know I sometimes want to look just like what you have always gotten stiff over. I, countlessly, would wonder if I was someone somebody would have any interest in climaxing to.
Evidently, I have no faith in my looks.
What provoked me to write this as the affair for this journal's entry was indulging into a million thoughts I always avoided. Why would I want to wonder why men were so into it? Why would I wonder why? That is the very point of this journal. I feel anxious and insecure wondering why about this. I know that every male I associate myself with spend their time watching and staring at it. I have always had a problem with it. The feeling will never go away.
This entry is brief and has little depth. I was distracted much too much and I can't really get into much detail unless I explain and compare myself to what I dislike or would like to have in order to feel competent. There is no reasoning going on, really... I'm only spilling what I have already reasoned. I just need to continue ignoring the feeling in order to allow this entry to end.