ain’t nothin but a heart aaaaaaaaaache TELL ME WHYEEEEEEEE ain’t nothin but a mistaaaaaaaaaake TELL MY WHYEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE I never wanna hear you saaaaaaaaaaaaaay (aw yea) IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII WANT IT THAAAAT WAY
My room is clean. Like clean CLEAN. It feel so so so so so good. I only wish that we could have emptied out all of my junk last February when me moved in, instead of now when in a month I’m moving away. But still. It’s like releasing all of this crap from my life I didn’t need and didn’t want and releasing the past. Letting go. Cleaning is some seriously zen sh*t.
How working at CVS (a pro-health pharmacy...) has damaged my self-esteem
1. Seeing all of the magazines at the front, where I work with the “ideal” beauty.
2. Hearing people criticize the people on those magazines who are far more beautiful than I consider myself to be.
3. Hearing people criticize themselves or others in the store.
4. Watching the amount of people who buy beauty products for make up or hair or getting thinner, when they’re thinner or prettier than me or have far better hair than I could ever aspire to.
5. Seeing the consistently decreasing age at which little girls and boys are wearing make up and having low self esteem.
6. Hearing people comment on how Marc Anthony didn’t deserve JLo because he wasn’t as attractive as her. I don’t believe beauty should be the basis for how well a couple fits together, thanks.
But I’m working on being healthy because that’s more important than being beautiful. And to hell with everybody else’s idea of what beauty is. I need to start looking at myself with the same love I devote to others. I deserve it whether I believe that or not. I’m going to continue working every day to keep reminding myself of how much I love myself and I’m going to try to remind others of how awesome they are, too.
God I hate insomnia. It’s awful. I’m a headcase. I’ve been diagnosed with just about every typical personality disorder you can imagine, in some form or another. OCD tendencies, bipolar, ADD, insomnia.
Mom: Why would you ever admit you cheated on your LSATs? That should be a secret that should never leave your lips… Me: So you’re saying it’s okay that you cheat on your LSATs as long as you don’t get caught? Mom: No, you can’t cheat on them either way. They fingerprint people now.
I love her mother too!
Guys this is my female best friend, Babs. And not the one I used to complain about on here a lot. Her mom is the bestest. She’s like my second madre.
“I do my thing and you do your thing, I am not in this world to live up to your expectations, and you are not in this world to live up to mine. You are you and I am I, and if by chance we find each other, it’s beautiful.”—Frederick S. Perle
Step #2. Do things that will make you proud of yourself.
I was out late and up even later last night, even though I knew I had to work in the morning. I could have gotten out of bed and called in sick. But I didn’t. I knew better. I got up and out of bed. I felt like shit. I even shed a few tears of exhaustion. But then, as the day went on, I felt better. I was happy with myself for making it through the day and for doing the adult thing.
I just want who I am and what I do to be good enough for you but it never will, will it? My sister got arrested and you still think she’s better than me. She’ll always be the perfect child and I’ll always be the dunce. Fuck you.
“Opinions are like nipples, everybody has one. Some have firm points, others are barely discernible through layers, and some are displayed at every opportunity regardless of whether the audience has stated “I am interested in your nipples” or not. Cats have nineteen.”—
I love you. I’ll miss your smiling face and the way you always tried to understand what was happening with me. I’ll miss the advice you gave. I’ll miss your wisdom yet innocence. I’ll miss you, in general, forever. You were a beautiful, amazing person. You faced so much adversity yet you were always happy and you were like a light in everyone’s lives around you. I’m sorry for all the times that I ever felt better than you, or any of the times that I wasn’t around enough.