Well, K’s gone out already, to his mum’s and then probably straight off to a pub. Turns out this sort of quiet is lonelier. Bored so I got dressed quite nicely and did up my face and now I am going to have some marshmallow vodka and Pepsi, heavy on the vodka, although I do wish we had time to have picked up some tequila earlier. I’ll probably get pissed, write some emotional nonsense on Wordpress, loudly and violently play a bit of Skyrim or Fallout 3, scope out something to eat, and then pass out before he even gets back home.
Everything is so unhappy suddenly?
I’m so uncomfortable in every meaning of the word. Today I went to IHOP and then bought a nice new bra and some boots. I feel strange and stupid and ill and there is a quiet between K and I that I am not liking very much.
I’m hoping he goes out to the bars with some friends tonight so I can quietly drunk alone in the empty house.
My hair is wild today!
Being away from you right now is killing me. I feel sick to my stomach and my legs can’t even hold me up. I’m just shaking and weak and so terrified by the thought of you lying in bed, alone, with your heart breaking. Or waking up in the dark with no one next to you and feeling abandoned. I just want to be close so you can turn to me when you need me. I hate how useless I am in all of this but I can at least offer you hand-holding and forehead-kisses and the occasional laugh, and I hope that is at least some comfort.
It feels like you are shutting a door on a part of yourself, keeping it hidden and untouchable, and I fear you won’t open it up for me ever again. That you will keep your heart at one end of a long, dark hallway, too far for me or anyone to ever reach again.
Please don’t do that. I won’t leave you. For as long as you want me by your side, I will be there, perhaps even a little longer than that.
Loving you endlessly, ceaselessly, wholly, completely, always. Paw prints and peppermints.
Is my new writing blog, I’m going to try and write at least once a night. I’m a bit distraught at the moment with my quality of my writing, so hopefully I’ll be able to note some improvement over time.
Basically it is just me throwing up my brain. If you follow me, it would be lovely and I’d appreciate it quite a lot, and I will absolutely follow back!
very ugly, and loved… not improperly, because I don’t think that’s a possible thing, but unsatisfactorily. I have been spoiled by poems and film.
No matter how hard I work to become OK with myself, to start working on improving myself and my quality of life instead of just complaining, I am knocked back down to where I started.
I admit, prolonged Tumblr use doesn’t help. Eventually I stumble upon the wrong things— beautiful girls, wonderful fashion, quotes, cliches, sex, photos of foreign cities— and indulge in them like sweets that eventually just leave me nauseous. I stare at each picture until it tears enough of me apart, and then move on to the next. Repeat the process until I am so consumed by self-loathing absolutely everything around me just won’t do. Least of all that reflection in the mirror. “Why can’t you be more beautiful? Have clearer skin, softer hair? Why do you have no sense of style? Why can’t you wear anything right? Why doesn’t your boyfriend treat you like you’re the most beautiful, precious thing in the world, something he doesn’t deserve, like love is *supposed* to be? (It’s not) Why aren’t you clever, creative, productive, adored, privileged, admired, insightful, strong, slender? Why are you failing in every single way?
Perhaps I just secretly sabotage myself because it’s easier to wallow in what I don’t have, than to continue struggling every day of my life to work towards only ever being a cheap knockoff of what I really wish I was, because it can’t be forced of faked, it must come naturally.
To be nothing, or to be merely a pale imitation? Some nights I feel like those are my only options.
These are all the clothes I’ve had on my floors for the past two weeks. I still have a bureau and a closet full. It’s really disgusting, and I pretty much cycle through the same week and a half worth of clothes, so this is just excessive. Essentially putting everything in good condition in a laundry basket to be washed and donated. Need to stop being weighed down by what I don’t need. I have a lot of hoodies and coats as well that I’m gonna give away, even if I like them. I only wear a few, and on really cold nights I get really horrified that there are people out there shivering. It’s not much, but it’s something, I hope.
Ugh, the photo doesn’t even do it justice. My bed comes mid-thigh. The pile of clothes comes up to my chest.
which is funny because I can’t seem to stop thinking about everybody else.
Sorry for so much of my face! Trying to get used the bare look and get comfortable with others seeing it. I get this weird, panicked anxiety that people are going to see me and be like, “Wow, it’s obvious why she wore so much makeup”. I care way too much about what other people think, and that shit needs to stop. I want to be that badass little girl I used to be with band-aids on her knees and dirt on her chin who would dance if she felt like it, no matter where she was, who spoke her mind and didn’t doubt herself, who was what she was and thought that was pretty awesome. One day.
Seeing several beautiful ladies I follow start taking the no-makeup route inspired me to shed the liner and shadow! My face feels so… light. And I must admit, I’m very looking forward to being able to rub my eyes the whole night without worrying about smudging. Sweet freedom! My lids are like, DEAR GOD IS THIS OXYGEN AND LIGHT OH HOLY DAY!
Dammit. Tired of these nights, the sickening thump in my chest, the drowning eyes.
Today I ate peanut butter and apples, and showed Cyndi my bum on Skype. Nevermind the glum face. Good night!
Wait, here’s a happy one from earlier (ft apples mmm):
Think I’m gonna start a dailybooth account because a) I am narcissistic fuck b) It makes me sad going through other peoples photos and how it documents how they’ve grown over the years, and I don’t really have it because I avoided being in photos forever and ever and c) because I never was able before when everyone else was doing it.
Here’s hoping that as my hair grows out it becomes less… like that!
Today I realized if I could only tell you one thing about me to give you the general idea of who I am as a person, it would be this: I often cry to a song about breakdancing.
BACK TO THE BEAT YO, BACK TO THE BEAT OF 1984
I love you.
UNEXPECTED GIF + MY LAPTOPS WEBCAM AIMED AT ME ONLY IN A BRA AND PANTIES = WHAT IS HAPPENING OH GOD I SHOULD HAVE WORN CUTER UNDIES TODAY / “You like?”
I love YOU!
