Dreams of Mars

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

I plan to show this to you today.

This week has been confusing for me.
I’m not doing too good.
I’m pretty fucked up.

Him and me, we aren’t doing so well, and i’m letting go. I don’t want the pain he gives.

You mean the world to me.

I hate feeling ugly all the time.
I hate feeling unloved.
I hate feeling like i’m not good enough for him.
I hate waking up every fucking day, and wondering why i’m here.

I hate crying.
I hate being alone.
I hate this post, and I definitely hate all this whining.
I hate how this post is going to have me labeled as emo.

I hate how I talk too loud, or too much.
I hate how I compare myself to everyone, and force myself to believe i’m a thousand times prettier than them.
I hate this false security.
I hate lying to myself.

I REALLY HATE how I walk, and how someone points it out when I think i’ve fixed it.
I hate how there’s no way to fix it other than some surgery that’s gonna keep me in a wheelchair for months, and how i’ll have a large chunk of metal in my leg for the rest of my life.

I hate how my Mother had to do drugs.
And I hate how it fucked me up.
I hate how that seems incredibly selfish.
I hate the fact she’s dead.

I hate how my first real boyfriend made me feel like the ugliest thing in the world.
And I hate how my second made me feel unhappy. (even though he’s a really nice guy with lovely eyes.)

I hate how that one guy made me disgusted with sex.
I hate how I don’t feel like i’ll ever get over it.
I hate how he called me a thousand times afterward.
I hate how my Grandmother still adores him, and tries to make me talk to him, or go in and see him at work.

I hate living with my Grandparents because I know eventually they’ll die.
I’ll go someplace bad.
And be alone.
I hate how I don’t think I could make it without my Grandma.

I hate how I feel like an awful person all the time.
I hate how I’m always left out.
I hate how my RL “friends” don’t seem like they’d give a shit if I died.
…Except for Rachel.

I hate how I can’t trust anyone.
I hate how I think everyone has a motive.
I hate how I think everyone is lying to save my feelings.
I hate how i’m so damn paranoid.

This post makes me seem so unstable.
I hate how I kept everything so bottled up inside.
I hate how its being expressed through this.

…

I’m all lonely..
Ergh. Am I dieased or something?

I miss you. A lot.

Forgive me if I start freaking on you soon – i’m trying not to.
I’m losing everything right now, and to lose you would be unthinkable.
You don’t know what’s going on right now, and I’d rather not tell you.
But simple: Just a bunch of teenage drama bullshit.

I’m trying to grow up much too fast, and I guess that’s what happens when you haven’t had too many immature moments in your life. *laughs*

I keep thinking what you’ll think of this when you read it, if you see it.
I don’t know what exactly would be the point of showing you.
…I’m just going through a lot right now, it seems, and I need your shoulder.

You’ve almost always been there.
I feel rather selfish because it seems like i’ve screamed out your name whenever the tiniest thing bothered me, and I was so dependent on you to make me happy.
I’m sorry for that, I just never had anyone else to turn to.

I think you think I favor Sean over you, and that isn’t true.
But I will say that if Sean hadn’t been around, i’m certain you’d be very sick of me.

It may seem like i’m trying to get you to pity me, but that isn’t the case.
I just want you to be aware of things if I freak out on you.
By “freak out”, I mean go on the whole paranoid rampage thing I sometimes do.
I’m not sure why I do it.. to make sure things are still the same between us, I suppose.

I adapt well to change, don’t get me wrong.
But i’m still so very attached to you.
Everything has just been such a mess in my head.
I’ve been keeping so much bottled up inside, I just don’t want to throw it all on you.
I think I’m convinced that you can fix all my problems.

This post sounds obsessive. I’m sorry.
Please don’t be upset.
I don’t know what’s wrong.

I love you so much. I really do.