I don’t use this anymore because I have a password protected blog.
Nothing is alright.
I can’t think of one thing that’s going right for me.
I just want to fix my sleeping schedule so I’m not wanting to do things at 3 am. I just want to lay on the beach in the dark with someone and maybe tell them why I get so upset after Thursday shows or underOATH shows or not and just sleep.
oh, you know, just biting my nails off because i’m always having an anxiety attack, always.
(Source: porcinestresssyndrome)
Sometimes I miss Victor. We had planned months ago to go to the show together tonight. I miss fawning over Thursday with him, and I miss going to his house on Friday’s and making out. I miss the really careful way he took my clothes off. I miss his cats the most, though. Maybe.
But he’s a fucking asshole and I can’t believe we still haven’t talked at all.
What if no one ever loves me or wants to get close or wants to cuddle and have sex and keep me safe because I’m so disgusting and shy and I don’t know how to approach new people and get to know them and I’m a giant fuck up in everything I do and there are so many better girls out there to choose from and I’m just a stupid fucked up tom-boy and I have no fucking sexual appeal.
I want to fucking die.
I once used to be terrified that I would end up in a hospital where no one loved me. And that no one would ever love me because of this fact.
Here I am again.
lol. This is what I was waiting for. I lose.
Today, I thought about how maybe I could be pretty if I tried or something. If I got new clothes. But I don’t want to become vain. I want to be comfortable with the persyn that I am. I don’t know. I’m stupid, that’s a stupid thought. I just had to vent.
I’m not good enough, and I won’t ever be good enough. I was never good enough.
Never gonna be that pretty.
I don’t think I could be more obvious.
“You’re just someone I’d make out with, not someone I would date.”
Oh okay.
I’m afraid that asking for clarification will fuck it all up. So I’ll just keep my mouth shut.
