Is that alright?
I find I notice small details.
An eyelash that isn’t straight, rather tilting. Then I have to pull it out, because what else am I going to do? Its imperfect and surely someone will notice it.
They’re never significant, not even to me. Just to the point where I actually notice them and pay obsession to them. If i don’t pull that eyelash out, i’ll get fidgety and freak out.
Or, hey, this eye is smaller.
This cheekbone is lower.
This side of my jawline is less defined.
My bottom teeth are crooked.
Ask someone?
“No, you’re fine.”
“No, its not.”
“What’s wrong with you?”
“You have such perfect teeth.”
So what’s wrong?
I think I don’t see myself correctly, because everything is flawed. Everything.
Nothing on me is even. Something has to be wrong, and it has to be in my head.
Or.
“Are you a tea junkie?”
OH SHIT! HE’S GONNA TAKE THAT THE WRONG WAY
“I like that scarf.”
OH FUCK! I LIKE HER OTHER ONES TOO. WHAT WILL SHE SAY?
You look really nice today.
HE’S GONNA THINK I THINK HE’S UGLY EVERY OTHER DAY!
Does everyone notice little flaws?
Does everyone evaluate what they say so heavily?
Oh, how about..
“I really like that shirt, Jen.”
No, you don’t.
“That eyeliner looks good on you.”
What? Its smeared to hell.
“You have nice eyes.”
No, I don’t.
“I like your taste in music.”
No, you’re just saying that.
“I love you.”
You don’t mean it.
I’m so sick of this, honestly.
I don’t want to question everything.
I don’t want to blame everything on myself.
fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck
Its all the same.
Sick Puppies’ All The Same makes me want to blog.
Everytime I listen to it, i’m like, “Ooh, hey, I should go blog.”
I’m sick of this game.
I’m not putting up with this.
You take all of me, or you get nothing.
That’s how it goes.
Sean called yesterday.
It was lovely.
I miss him.
Ahem, I need to post about the dream I had.
Er, uh, erm, well…
And i’ll take you for who you are, if you take me for everything.
I have that song stuck in my head.
I just finished Christopher Pike’s Hollow Skull, for the second time in my life.
Not as good as the first time I read it. Oh no.
Onto R.L Stine’s Party Slumber!
“She’s so tan.”
“Super tan!”
“Yeah, she’s hot because she’s so tan. She wouldn’t be as hot if she wasn’t so tan.”
“Ah, so cool!”
-Andrew imitating guys he overheard in Pac-Sun.
So I decided I want:
Vertical teardrops on both sides.
Venombites on my right.
A bridge.
YAY. Gotta wait two years, though.
Might just go with the bridge and venombites.
No, I wouldn’t dare to fix the twist in you.
I’ll come back to haunt you if I drown.
I’m sorry for neglecting you, dear diary.
I’ve been terribly busy. I don’t even know where to start.
First off: I met a guy on the 25th, he goes by Andrew, but I frequently refer to him as Special Agent Small. We’ve spent almost every other day together since the 31th, I believe.
Yeah, its pretty amazing. Now I know what everyone means when they say they click with someone.
I don’t have anything else to say. Sudden mood change. Hahahhaa.
Go watch Pan’s Labyrinth. Now, now, now!!!