I know this topic is being repeated here, but
I’m saying this anyway:
I solemnly declare that my boobs are the pretties, most fabulous petite breasts in the entire universe. Yes, I needed that.
Friday night, I’m in bed, thank goodness…
#workingclass #fatigue #barista4life
a perfect pic for what I’m about to say. so I was standing in the bathroom like I always do, looking at my naked self as if something was supposed to be different from yesterday. boobs still tiny, I’m a weirdly sexy banana, not sure what a healthy male would say about it. am I disappointing? I’m not trying to say this in a whiny way, but this body that I posses is not perfect by any century’s standards. it’s ok, devil’s in the details and all.. but now, I think it’s high time I admitted to myself that there is no perfect cure for my behaviours. it’s like I know a quick but dangerous exit from my social-home(like jumping from the 2nd floor, sometimes 3rd), when there are both an elevator and the stairs. not gonna fool myself, not gonna pretend all this shit has a proper reason. it’s just that. ‘sex with a condom’ - for the pleasure, without consequences - malfunctioned food consumption edition.
nothing new was said here, i believe i can improve my self esteem to the level of not being sick every now and then (of how low it is), but i still secretly pray to see stunning proportions one of the evenings in front of the mirror. that’s why i want stuff to go fast, so that they wouldn’t point out all my flaws. urges baby, the fun is in the hunt
but i can change i can change
I should keep it real. Not more real,but real real.
The complicated maze of self-worth.
kiss me like you miss me fuck me like you hate me and when you’re fucking someone else just fuck her like she ain’t me
It’s been a while since I was this upset and disappointed. Falling head over heels to unexpected and oh so exciting pit of emotions I now find myself completely drained, empty and most importantly, fucking sceptic about it all.
No pleasure for old souls.
Oh look, it’s the IwannaDie o’clock!
Today I read a reasoned post about how harry potter is actually a story about a mentally ill kid (voldie is his another personality, hogwarts - an asylum.. dissociate much n all). Which was quite mood killing (imaginary belief killing, magic killing, those fucking fucks). Then my mum accidentally made my dog’s leg to brake. Which makes me sad, but I honestly don’t know how the hell i am supposed to express that.
I go to work every morning, which is nice, because that’s a thing i gotta do - no second thoughts or excuses..
I feel cornered. why?
loneliness strikes again. bitch
considering people’s taste in music, can I please meet someone as unbiased as I am? it seems this shit defines a lot of..details about you. i cannot find my music. been digging into old playlists and long forgotten bands, but it ain’t the same. i’m also on a break from mr. aubrey and queen b. new music is kinda scary, listening to it requires attention, devotion and patience. i’m not talking about music any more, am i? i might download or add it to my player, or even think it’s cool, but it’s too difficult to endure the whole song. it’s too long, too familiar, too boring, too simple, too dull…or maybe i need something else.
been working my ass off. feeling kind of great. it’s more peaceful. just gotta remember to allow myself to feel feelings, ya know..
now…sleep, wake up, do things!
lordylord, i’m not picky, just give me a man, a pinch of excitement and drama, and both sided, please, both sided
why has updating my fb cover photo become such an important way of self-expression.?. if not the only one at this time, on saturday, after 13 hours of solo work in the coffee shop. tomorrow has the same scenario. don’t get me wrong, i love it. i just can’t take anything seriously. peachy and cynical at the same time. pretty sure i messed something up with the till tonight, and the alarm. oh well, ya live and ya learn
does my face say ‘come bullshit me’?
A dude who (apparently supposedly) suggested going out some time has a life-fucking-long gf. Who is my semi-boss. Life, go shite on ya own head (Hawick accent here).
Don’t wanna watch anything, read anything, go anywhere. Going to bed. Hustlin erryday, makin it bettah than yesterday. Hopefully, goddamnit.
So I worked my ass off. And they ain’t gonna pay me for that. WHAT? Training they say, well fuck you very much.
Shall we play a game? I’m not sure, urgh
The world is pointlessly full of complicated things with unimaginable solutions. When depressed, I used to have these superstitions or preconceptions about how I’m doomed, cursed, pathetic and will never find happiness and fairness. Or love for that matter. Every time I cyber stalked some random crush I’d have scenarios in my head, conversations etc., and then when in reality a few ‘hellos’ were the only things going on I would freak out, panic and fall into the sweet, pleasantly painful self-pity. Which, by the way, is immeasurably easier than putting yourself out there - to the voluntary public acting stage, where you play yourself.
Well, I don’t know how true this is, but things are nothing more than a crazy motherfucking GAME everybody plays. I don’t think there’s a way back to thinking all this life, death, love, career thing is SERIOUS. This will sound very weird, but after some certain things I did in the past couple of weeks or so I figured that I am not alone in myself. No, there are no strange voices saying random scary stuff, but I sometimes feel the company of my (sub)consciousness fighting for/against me (or not fighting at all, just showing things).
It’s questionably normal. Substances, right? But I don’t get stuck on things anymore. I can constantly move forward and keep playing. Yeah, baby, play hard.
…we are crazy alrite…
It’s upside down. For a few days I was happier than ever. It’s freedom, dude, everything’s a game.
Of course this way’s better. But not when you’re playing all by yourself.
Oh look, it’s Monday. Gotta get up, fix the face and head to sign a job contract.
All I want is to be forgiven. Then again you can never really know what’s going on in other people’s minds. That’s the key of the game.
Pardon my newbie astonishment. I’ll get skilled, I promise.
It’s never exactly how you think,
planning to fly - you fucking sink.
Easy ain’t interesting, but I’ve had enough,
time to recover, it’s gonna be rough.
I’ll be annoying and bitchy if I need to.
The things that piss you off in others are usually what you hate the most in yourself. No need to beg for anyone’s acceptance. Shit’s real, it runs fast.