I’m hot. I can’t sleep. I took a nap which resulted in a case of insomnia. I got my bathing suit from Amazon sometime today while I was at my internship and when I got home I opened it and my excitement left when I realized that my breasts are way too big to fit into this bikini. See, I’m trying to be more beautiful, this summer, and so far my plans have been falling through. What does it mean to be more beautiful? I’m not sure what that means, myself. Is it in a bathing suit? Probably not but that didn’t stop me from crying. I got my ear pierced two weeks ago and my ear is still so sore. Every time I brush my ear with head phones, or when I forget, I want to cry like a baby… I also got another tattoo on my ribs, yesterday. I couldn’t tell you why… but I hate it. I hate it and I want to be more beautiful. I want to be more beautiful than I’ve ever been before.
I’m listening to Corinne Bailey Rae. I love how effortless her voice is—simple it is. It’s beautiful. She’s beautiful. I want to feel like what “Another Rainy Day” makes me feel. I almost cried taking my senior portraits yesterday, and I don’t know why. I can’t tell if it was because I feel helpless, or if it was from excitement of graduating. It rained yesterday. I love the rain. It also snowed. I happen to enjoy the snow, as well. But yesterday was strange. Yesterday was a very strange day.
I want to cry, now. I have no idea why, though. I’m not sleepy. Sometimes I cry when I’m tired. It’s something that got worse with age. I love sleep. I also hate sleep. While I sleep time goes by really quickly. I have no idea why I’m crying and I want to know why I cry at 11:48 pm EST. I came home at four and slept until seven. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.
I know that something is wrong and I am mad that something always has to be wrong. I’m angry that I’m crying when I should be asleep. I’m angry that people are upset that I’m upset. I’m angry when people think something is wrong with me. I’m angry that I have these times where people can see me sobbing driving down 202, when I’m crying out to God begging him to take this away from me.
I don’t like that I’m entertaining people because I feel bad. I don’t like the feeling of being used or being lied to about intentions. It makes me feel like I’m being followed closely or cornered. And I hate the feeling of both.
I don’t like that I’m entertaining people because I feel bad. I don’t like the feeling of being used or being lied to about intentions. It makes me feel like I’m being followed closely or cornered. And I hate the feeling of both.
I am missing someone I’m afraid of and that doesn’t make any sense, but it makes all of the sense in the world. I don’t like always having to be the positive one when I have my own fears—worries. When I deviate from my role of the happy, positive, self-medicated one I end up staying up past my bedtime… when the monsters come out to play with my mind.
Monsters wrapped in packages from Amazon telling me how beautiful I won’t be this summer. It makes no sense, but it makes all of the sense in the world. I’m not always this way; confused and sad. Just in the night and on paper, I don’t have to explain myself.
