22.Aug.2002

i hate pmsing.

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got the life

So I told my ever-loving, extremely mature, utterly supportive boyfriend tonight that I was the third thinnest person at Tan and Tone America.

His response was, "DAMN!".

He was then violently confused on why I was upset by his outburst. Sometimes I don't even know why I bother.

Somewhere on this universe there lies an individual who may not be marked by physical beauty, but by mental beauty, who sees the world through similar experience and understands the pull of train graveyards. Somewhere on this universe there lies an individual who isn't burned by past experiences, who is emotionally sound but whimsical, who will not blame me for not being what they desired, and I won't hear the phrase, "It's good enough for me."

Somewhere in this universe there lies an individual who is not marked by need. Who will not define me as "on the cusp of beauty" but as simply "beautiful".

Why should I try, why cannot I just be?

Ugh.

What the fuck have I become.

Tell me to get over it, cynics.

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time & machine