oh my god
i’ve never been able to make my body do that on my own
i almost got there
i almost did
oh my god
my body is a beautiful thing
i can’t wait to get to know it more
Mm all the fucking hot people making me wet as hell.
It’s been a fucking good Wednesday.
I am so fucking horny.
each of these is a love letter to you
or are they a love letter to the person i used to be?
so i’m going on a date tonight. the first real date (well, minus that weird thing a couple bajillion years ago it feels like) since i broke up with my first real boyfriend.
i’ve shaved. everything. for the first time since the break up (nearly ten weeks ago). its weird to be hairless…everywhere. is that tmi? perhaps. i forgot how nice it feels though.
im bleeding a bit though. oops. hopefully it stops before i have to get dressed.
next to straighten my hair and figure out what the EFF i’m wearing.
i’m half excited, half scared out of my mind nervous.
I feel prettiest when I don’t eat.
I hate that you’ve reminded me how much I truly hate myself.
And how that never, ever is going away.
I hate my body
I hate my personality
I hate my nose and how full my cheeks are
I hate the color of my skin
I hate my fingernails
and my teeth
and how fat I am.
I hate my ankles and how big my feet are.
I hate how my big toenail never recovered from last summer when I broke my toe.
I hate how I’m too weird for mainstream but not weird enough for hipsters.
I hate how I reopened my heart only to have it broken
I hate myself.
I don’t want to die, I just want to go away. Be someone else.
I want to change.
i’m just trying to work and i can’t stop thinking about you. whyyyyyyy???
I hate this.
I hate you.
I hate that I feel so insecure all the time.
I hate that I’m too fucked up for love.
That everyone has someone out there for them, a soulmate, except me.
This proved that to me.
I hate crying all the time.
I hate having to pretend I’m alright. To laugh, to smile, to not bring you up in every conversation because my heart aches so.
I hate having to dress nice every single day because I’m constantly trying to make good first impressions.
I hate this.
I hate that I feel nothing, nothing at all.
I hate that you are forcing me to see the worse sides of myself. The sides I’ve hidden away for a reason. The insecure, the hopeless, the whiny, the unforgivable sides of me.
I hate that I opened up to you and you still left.
I hate that you are being an ass now and leading me on and then pulling away.
I hate that you called me crazy when in reality, you made me this way. I was sane. I had forgone love for everything else and was okay. I was happy, maybe, even. I had boxed up all of my teenage heartbreak and baggage so I wasn’t like this. How I am now.
I hate that I can’t get you out of my mind. I hate that every possible love person I’ve met since you has been tainted with your memory. That I compare them to you. I take them on dates that we went on. I tell the same anecdotes, laugh at the same jokes that I did with you, all you.
I hate it.
I hate that now I know that I will never, ever be a good fit for anyone. That I will never, ever be enough.
I hate that confirmation.
I hate that now I have to face endless rejection because you’ve opened up this box of emotion. A box I had closed off and packed so deeply away so I never had to deal with it. But now its open and in the forefront of my brain and I am back to being a teenage girl. I hate it.
I have already been rejected twice. Twice. Not with so many words with one, but the sentiment — its still there.
And it’s going to happen again. And again. And again.
Because I’m never, ever enough. I’m never good enough for the people I fall for. Ever.
It’s bringing back all the insecurities I have. I hate my body. I hate the way I breakout when I’m stressed and how my mascara never sticks to my corner lashes. I hate the way I walk and laugh and talk. I hate my personality. I hate how I struggle to remember things that happened only a few months ago and I don’t know why. I hate that I gave you my heart and you stomped on it. I hate the way I talk to myself, because I am my best (and usually only) company.
I hate that you’ve made me realize how crazy I am. I hate that I’m in therapy, that I’m there to deal with problems I can no longer deal with on my own.
I hate this.
I hate that I cry. Before you, the last time I cried was over a year ago. I hate that I’m weak. I hate that my insecurities are raging and I can’t think straight and I can’t get you and the people that have rejected me out of my brain. I hate that you are all telling me I suck over and over and over again in my head, a cacaphony of noise I can’t forget.
Trust me, I know I suck.
You don’t need to tell me that, I tell it to myself over and over again without your help.
I’m not perfect. No where near close. I had finally accepted that but now its back to square one - a lifetime of disappointment to get over, once again. Maybe I shouldn’t. Maybe I should just accept it and get away and start over like I’ve done three times in the past year.
I hate that you’re making me consider that as an option.
But mostly, I hate that I don’t hate you.
I don’t. I want to, oh believe me, I want to. But I don’t. I want to hate you, I want to feel apathetic towards you, I want….anything but this.
But I don’t. I don’t fucking hate you and I fucking hate that.
Fuck heartbreak, seriously. Fuck all of this. Fuck you.
Oh, I wish I could.