Disassemble
Nervous, edgy day. Snapped at too many people, was dazed and drear and observant as a dying animal, nothing in me but a detached hyperawareness. Right now it seems as if everyone I know thinks of me as a harmless emotionless pet or a mindless willing orifice. I feel like destruction.
Do I not deserve the people I have? I know rationally that some of them must love me, respect me, maybe even admire me, but I feel like a clown. I am a joke obvious to everyone but myself.
And I really wish people would stop telling me that I'm pretty. I personally don't find that to be true more than 30% of the time. That I'm not hideous- that ought to make me feel better about not having any talents, passions? I would rather be able to write a page without struggling or have a conversation where I don't fuck up every sentence as if everyone else is purposefully misunderstanding me or have an imagination of any sort. My hair is falling out and there are bruises still along my back, even though I've gained 3 pounds back. I don't feel pretty- I feel tired and old and worn out already. My hypothetical good looks are of no comfort to me.
Flaming insecurity, paranoia, and preliminary shots for that student film tomorrow. Nothing better than being filmed when you really want to spend a morbid day in bed, reflecting on your own meaningless past, present, and future.
Do I not deserve the people I have? I know rationally that some of them must love me, respect me, maybe even admire me, but I feel like a clown. I am a joke obvious to everyone but myself.
And I really wish people would stop telling me that I'm pretty. I personally don't find that to be true more than 30% of the time. That I'm not hideous- that ought to make me feel better about not having any talents, passions? I would rather be able to write a page without struggling or have a conversation where I don't fuck up every sentence as if everyone else is purposefully misunderstanding me or have an imagination of any sort. My hair is falling out and there are bruises still along my back, even though I've gained 3 pounds back. I don't feel pretty- I feel tired and old and worn out already. My hypothetical good looks are of no comfort to me.
Flaming insecurity, paranoia, and preliminary shots for that student film tomorrow. Nothing better than being filmed when you really want to spend a morbid day in bed, reflecting on your own meaningless past, present, and future.
posted by J at 7:27 PM
2 Comments:
You are a very straightforward and honest person, I find.
People are not used to such geuninity; they think, "Oh, if she is an open book, then the book must be so small!"
And this forwardness is so disarming, people come to grow satisfied with surface answers, and forget to keep looking deeper.
(Sorry if it makes no sense or is b.s.; I am trying to remain insightful to a sensitive post.)
I like it! Keep up the good work. Thanks for sharing this wonderful site with us.
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