Girl For Sale
It feels like too much and never enough.
I'm overwhelmed by a sense of need, desire and vacancy.
I am lonesome.
Curse my imagination, it mocks my reality and leaves me
dissapointed. I'm idealistic about my expectations and
pessimistic about actual occurances. I'm so vulnerable to
dissapointment. I believe in my fantasies with such
feverishly blind faith that these moments of
dissillusionment burn me like acid.
AND I AM SO FUCKING MELODRAMATIC.
I've thrown myself into this elaborate web of distractions.
I still can't lose and forget myself in it. I still can't
stop being so painfully concious.
I'm desperate to be noticed and percieved. I'm starved for
some sort of friendship.
These words are too revealing and it frightens me.
I'll hide in abstractions.
I'll save my secrets for the canvas.
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