hizzah

Being Green
2002-05-09 08:25:30 (UTC)

I'm wallowing again....

According to my birth control pills, I should be getting
my period in a matter of days. Naturally my monthly fit
of self-loathing has set in.

I'm sorry that Robert has to always put up with my
whining. I don't know why I seek comfort in him. He
never tells me what I want to hear.

He has the same worries as I. We both fear that the
mate we end up with will end up settling for us after not
being able to find someone hot enough for them.
Instead of having a superstar wife, they settle for the girl
with the good manners and nurturing disposition. Not
someone to flaunt around town though.

I told Robert that if he ever settled for me, I'd be a very
lucky girl. He didn't have much to say in reply besides
"goodnight, cheer up." I don't know why I try so hard
with him. I'll never get him. And if I did..I'd know that I
wasn't what he wanted to be with.

I'm tired of realizing that my looks are holding me back.
No one is ever attracted to someone just because they
are nice. Or because they try to have the best intentions
always. They only want you if you're all that plus tall,
blond and thin. Fuck it all. I can't compete. I'll just dig
thru the remnents.

I must be masochistic the way I search out things I
know I can't have. Things...or people more specifically.
I just can't win. I create my own misery.

Today at the doctor's office I sat next to a grandma with
her new 7 week old baby grandaughter, Malia. Malia
had a few stitches on the side of her head. She pouted
and whimpered and I nearly did the same. The smell
wafting off the top of her head made me float.

My heart sank to the bottom of my stomach. I want one.
I want a baby so bad. I want a family and a home.

But no, I'm 24, still in college and still living in the
dorms. I have no real job, I live from paycheck to
paycheck, from workstudy no less. Fucking pathetic I
tell you. I want to say I'm over it and just throw myself
full force into my work like I always do. But I can't help
but fawn after the occasional handsome boy that
passes me bye. Nothing can keep me from wishing
and dreaming.

All my loathing has made me tired. I feel the need to
crawl into bed and cry myself to sleep. It feels good to
do it.

Don't feel sorry for me, I don't want your pity.




Ad: