The morning seemed manageable,
When you wake up 3 hours earlier than you normally do, things get messy. I was not stressed about my day, and I was ready on time. There is no rush for me to be anywhere. Two errands that need to be done. One is to treat myself and the next is to get shit done. I looked cute and comfortable, nothing was irritating me. I had a nice relaxing morning.
I hand in my papers, very important papers, to my doctor in the afternoon. He tells me they are filled out wrong, and that I need to get new ones as soon as possible. When you have been trying so hard to get one deadline done, it seems to take forever. I was hoping it would be done by now, but I guess whatever. I keep making the same mistakes that take months to rearrange.
Don’t cry over spilled milk,
Do not worry about mistakes if you are given a second chance. I stopped stressing out the moment I got on the bus home. There is no point in filling your head with clutter when you are already filled with misery. Things get out of hand if you worry about every little thing. At least today, I went out and tried my best. Each day, there is another thing to get done and I won’t let it get to me. Some say I should be used to it by now. I guess I am misery at it’s best. Someday, I will grow up to be responsible enough to live, but right now I say “fuck it”.
Do you look at someone in their eyes and sense their emotion? Either, it is noticeable enough for you to see their eyes water or a small grin. Sometimes, you barely see how they feel. Their vibe is giving you a strong presence of their intentions. Their reality is different from yours, mostly because everyone’s right and wrong is different. It’s like you need to put yourself in their shoes to understand certain emotions. Then, people make assumptions over their right and wrongs.
Let’s say a friend and yourself go out for drinks on a Friday night. You’re a boy and she’s a girl. You both notice friends right away, both knowing it’s no big deal if you’ll see each other later anyway. She comes over to you with a beer an hour later. You’re happy she remembers to come see you instead of being caught up with people in the crowd. You’re both so open with each other that it doesn’t matter what the night brings. You drink together and get distracted by the surroundings once in a while. Overall, you’re both friends having a nice night out with everyone.
She then goes home with someone else, you notice after a lot of drinks that she’s gone. She’s not in the crowd anymore. You don’t think much of it but you wish she was still there. It’s almost like you’re jealous she didn’t pick you to go home with. You’ve been friends for so long that you shouldn’t be jealous at all. Something inside you makes you wish she picked you that night. Why?
The people closest to you with grab a piece of your heart. No matter if you’re friends or lovers, everyone has a piece of you. You can kiss someone you’ve met in two weeks, and they’ll mean as much as someone from two years. Time means nothing once you grow up, it just means you’re scared of it running out. You tell yourself you have all the time in the world, and then you do things you regret. Either, she went home with someone new that she won’t see next week. Or she’ll meet someone that she’ll keep for two years straight. That night you had with her could change everything. You realise you want to spend all your time with her, but you’re scared she’ll pick someone else.
You’re also scared to pick her. You’d rather never admit to yourself that she could be yours if you tried. You feel the need to make her feel guilty for not picking you. How could she assume you want her? She can’t know what’s going on in your head. She doesn’t know how much time you’d love to spend with her. She’s living her own life, but you are too. Don’t hesitate to grab a piece of her before it’s too late. If you feel for her, it’s never too late.
Someday, I’ll have soft skin. I’ve been saying this since the age of 12. Maybe one day, I won’t hurt myself long enough to be able to love my skin. Every time I deal with beauty compared to everyone else, I panic. I can’t live to anyone’s expectations of me. People think too highly of me, it’s pressure to me. I feel pressured to be perfect, no matter whatever happens to me. I could be going through the toughest time of my life and I’ll still wear makeup. I’ll try to look good for myself and feel better about myself. I like feeling pretty.
I’ve also been in too much trouble for being pretty. No matter what age or time in my life, being pretty caused very harmful things to me. I lived with it all, and I still wear my makeup today like I would every day.
Someday, I’ll walk outside like I used to. I’ll wear my short shorts and my tube tops too. I’ll wear tank tops, and the cutest bikini I can find. Someday, I’ll wear dresses again and I won’t wear tights. I’ll go out wearing a red tank top dress. No one will stop me, I love my body. I love my body, and someday no one will be able to make me scared of it again. Being pretty hurts and someday I won’t let them hurt me anymore.
The scars will fade. I’ll cover them with tattoos. I’ll never let the past touch me again. I am so much stronger. No one has a chance at hurting this pretty girl again.