love.hate.truth. & it goes thru life...crushing every bone...
Sean was perfect. I never got his last name, but I’m almost sure of it. He was perfection & then it happened again. I somehow found emptiness even while being surrounded by his perpetual beauty. Why must the greatest looking guys be the greatest assholes? He was the one that initiated the conversation at the college. He was the one that seemed interested in me. He was the one to ask for my phone number and the one that kept calling at one in the morning because he wanted to “hear my voice”. Then why did he play hard-to-get after he did all of that? There is either something seriously wrong with today’s male gender or today’s society, but I can’t figure which is bound to doom-ation (not an actual word). I’m hoping the male gender will go down, and fast. But then with the male gender, goes most of society. Sadly many females see guys as the superior. But many of them see them as the inferior also. Why the hell can’t it be evened out? Even though I wouldn’t mind seeing most of the guys I know suffer, we should all be considered equal should we not? Of course then the topic will turn towards the feelings society feels about itself in general. And then that prejudice, and then the racist, and the sexist, and so on…but I’ll get to that another day when my brain isn’t so much on fire as it is right now.
Being too aware of your body parts can be seriously damaging to the brain. Staring at my spider fingers and wondering what they will kill next while wondering when my last breath was taken which usually leaves me gasping for breath and then sitting in front of the mirror starring at my breasts wondering if they'll ever get touched again when I should be brushing my teeth or washing my face. And I laugh when I think of the many mornings I would try my hardest to look my best, when in reality, I was trying to look like someone else. Someone perfect. Someone without fat lips or huge cheekbones that stuck out even when they frowned. The hairstylist was right. I do look like I’m foreign. I laugh when I can’t remember the last time I wore make-up. What’s the point? If people can’t accept me for what I truly am, I’ll put a curse on them! It’s as simple as that.
Besides, I think I like the “unkempt” look. It’s kinda sexy (on a guy). But maybe if I try it long enough, I’ll finally accept my outer-self.
I chew my fingers at night. I never noticed the bite marks before, but I wake up with bite marks and scars on my hands. I should probably freak out, but it’s the most exciting thing happening these days and I’m not about to push that away. I threw up today too. I didn’t realize that I hadn’t eaten anything in awhile. But that’s just it! That’s the beauty of it, nothing looks appealing to me anymore. Even when I think about eating, I feel like throwing up. I like that weak feeling, like I’m punishing my body for not being perfect. But I am in control and that makes it even more exhilarating.
I’ve been thinking about starting my own religion. I don’t know if I could pull it off though knowing that if my religion gets popular, millions of people may burn in hell for believing the wrong thing. But at least I helped them believe in something. That is the point of religion, is it not? If some people didn’t believe in something (as in a higher power) there would be no point of living right? But will they burn in hell for it? Is there a hell? Well, if there were a God, then wouldn’t it be erroneous of him to judge those who were too blind to see the truth to begin with? Then if he is just, then there wouldn’t be a hell would there be?
Anywho, when you’re young, alone, and running like myself, it’s nice to think that you are in control (and then that brings me to the topic; what is control?) Is it being able to stop and start the clock whenever necessary?
Well, enough babbling(for now)…
Being too aware of your body parts can be seriously damaging to the brain. Staring at my spider fingers and wondering what they will kill next while wondering when my last breath was taken which usually leaves me gasping for breath and then sitting in front of the mirror starring at my breasts wondering if they'll ever get touched again when I should be brushing my teeth or washing my face. And I laugh when I think of the many mornings I would try my hardest to look my best, when in reality, I was trying to look like someone else. Someone perfect. Someone without fat lips or huge cheekbones that stuck out even when they frowned. The hairstylist was right. I do look like I’m foreign. I laugh when I can’t remember the last time I wore make-up. What’s the point? If people can’t accept me for what I truly am, I’ll put a curse on them! It’s as simple as that.
Besides, I think I like the “unkempt” look. It’s kinda sexy (on a guy). But maybe if I try it long enough, I’ll finally accept my outer-self.
I chew my fingers at night. I never noticed the bite marks before, but I wake up with bite marks and scars on my hands. I should probably freak out, but it’s the most exciting thing happening these days and I’m not about to push that away. I threw up today too. I didn’t realize that I hadn’t eaten anything in awhile. But that’s just it! That’s the beauty of it, nothing looks appealing to me anymore. Even when I think about eating, I feel like throwing up. I like that weak feeling, like I’m punishing my body for not being perfect. But I am in control and that makes it even more exhilarating.
I’ve been thinking about starting my own religion. I don’t know if I could pull it off though knowing that if my religion gets popular, millions of people may burn in hell for believing the wrong thing. But at least I helped them believe in something. That is the point of religion, is it not? If some people didn’t believe in something (as in a higher power) there would be no point of living right? But will they burn in hell for it? Is there a hell? Well, if there were a God, then wouldn’t it be erroneous of him to judge those who were too blind to see the truth to begin with? Then if he is just, then there wouldn’t be a hell would there be?
Anywho, when you’re young, alone, and running like myself, it’s nice to think that you are in control (and then that brings me to the topic; what is control?) Is it being able to stop and start the clock whenever necessary?
Well, enough babbling(for now)…