I cannot stress to you how dumb I feel writing this.
But I figure I'll get it over with.
Any of you who don't know me in real life don't know what I look like, and I haven't made it extremely clear to you til now, because I only realized it a few weeks ago.
I'm not an attractive person.
My mom pointed out some stuff about me and I realized that I'm not beautiful or pretty or even cute.
I don't know if I'd say 'plain', because of the afro I have going on, but I'm not exceptionally good looking.
I'm not skinny, I'm taller than most girls I know, my hair just speaks for itself, and I honestly don't look very good in the majority of clothes I own.
And if you think "Woah, when did YOUR self esteem hit rock bottom?" you can ask my mother, who told me that I was desperate and would date the first person who called me pretty because nobody usually would.
Thanks, Mom.
I haven't felt pretty for almost two weeks.
I'm sorry to anyone who I ever told in the span of said two weeks that I feel good or nice about the way I look on any given day.
I've gotten up every day, looked in the mirror, and noticed something wrong.
"Oh, my lips are chapped.
My hair's fuzzy.
My eyes really are too big."
The Swirling Rainbow Vortex of STUFF
For Your Delectation And Delight...
Tuesday, August 16, 2011
Thursday, July 28, 2011
Monday, July 18, 2011
Friday, July 15, 2011
Uh..
If you're going to make everyone cry and threaten to leave, then leave.
I don't want to hear it.
I don't want to hear it.
Thursday, July 14, 2011
I'm Sorry.
I am not a nice kid.
I am not a talented kid, or a good kid.
I snap at you guys.
I am hateful.
I am not anything like what you want me to be.
I'm sorry for telling you that I don't care that you can't concentrate on your piano lessons.
I'm sorry that it makes me mad that you won't let me go to the movies because you think we held hands last time.
I'm sorry.
I am not a talented kid, or a good kid.
I snap at you guys.
I am hateful.
I am not anything like what you want me to be.
I'm sorry for telling you that I don't care that you can't concentrate on your piano lessons.
I'm sorry that it makes me mad that you won't let me go to the movies because you think we held hands last time.
I'm sorry.
Wednesday, July 13, 2011
Woodstock:D
Not the frikkin' hippie festival.
The bird:D
He's on me shirt.
In other news:
... There is no other news.
Curses.
The bird:D
He's on me shirt.
In other news:
... There is no other news.
Curses.
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