I just want the truth to be different

Sometimes I hate these damn female hormones. Assuming that’s the reason for it. Maybe it’s genetic, my family is not exactly noted for its sanity. Or maybe it’s just me. I dunno, I dunno, but I feel crazy today. Mood swings crazy. Hate myself crazy. Upset and I don’t know why crazy. Ok, so I sort of know why. But it’s something that’s too stupid to be upset about. Something I should totally be over by now.

And, I don’t want people to lie to me. I just want the truth to be different. And this is what happens when I have excessive time to think. My mind spins in circles, and I look at myself, and I almost never like what I see.

And, I wish I was different, and I wish life was different. I wish the truth was different. I wish all sorts of things. And wishing these things, and posting these wishes, probably makes me seem like such a freak that I will never get them. What’s the one way to guarantee that you will never be that girl that drives men crazy- posting it on the internet maybe?? I show my crazy to the whole world, and hope someone will think I’m great anyway- but I’m fooling myself.

I miss my iPhone- it distracted me. Now I have too many empty spaces, holes to fill with aimless thoughts of what I don’t and won’t ever have. And, so I act like I don’t care if I ever have these things, and I at like I’m not the type of girl who needs them. And maybe I don’t always, but, sometimes I do. Sometimes I wish I was the type of girl guys bought flowers for. I don’t even like flowers, and I’m bad with them, and I let them die right away, but still. I wish I was the type of girl who was graceful, and elegant, and always dressed well, and said the right thing. Who didn’t stumble on words, and walk into walls, and look like..the way I sometimes look. Sometimes I wish I was the type of girl you took nice places. And I’m just not.

And, other times, I say fuck that. Why can’t someone love me in blue jeans? Why can’t they find my klutziness cute, or my awkwardness endearing?? Why can’t they love me- warts and all. But, that’s not the way the world works. We don’t love who people are- we love who they claim to me, who they could be. Women are especially guilty of this- we love the potential guy, not the guy whose already there. We love the public face, the falsehood, the lie that we wish was true. Because the truth…sucks. Nine times out of ten the truth just sucks. And, I don’t want a lie. And I don’t want to lie. I don’t want to live a lie. I don’t really want to pretend to be someone else so guys like me better. I don’t want falsehoods. I just want the truth to be different.

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About boredgirl260

27 year old trying to figure things out as she goes.
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