I just really, really, want you to like me.
It’s late, and I’m tired, and I just want you to know that I feel really stupid in front of you 90% of the time. You’re cool and suave and poised in a masculine way. And I’m on the other side of the room trying not to drool and accidently running into the sides of tables.
To the girls who’ve collected razors; I want you to know you’re not alone. I’ve been there. I’ve debated death so deeply it scared me- it scared my mother. I’ve rerun cuts over scars I already had. I’ve cried so hard I couldn’t breathe. I’ve slept for days, with the curtains pulled, not eating- not drinking, not leaving the one comfort I had left: my own warmth under my covers. I’ve written suicide notes. Not one- many. I’ve been there. A majority of my teen years I was there. I struggled so hard. But I’m so proud I’m alive today. It will get better. And you’ll hear it from everyone. School counselors, therapists, parents, siblings will tell you it will get better. But it’s hard to believe those words from someone who’s never been where you’re at. But I was there, hun. I was dead. But I promise you with every fiber of my being you can learn to live again. It won’t be easy, but it will be worth it. And you’ll come out strong and beautiful. The first step is the hardest. Put the razor down. Replace it with a red pen. Then put then pen down. And every day write down what you love- what you can’t leave behind. Put that list on your mirror, in your pocket, taped to the front of your diary. Read it. Reread it. You’re worth this. Not just for yourself. For them. You’re worth living. You’re not worth destroying. And you’re stronger than the fight you’re losing right now. You can do this, love. You can do this <3
The one day I look like complete shit (pajamas, didn’t brush my hair, barely half-did my make-up), my crush is up my ass. Ignores me every other day. Wants me on the day I look disgusting. All I could do was be like “Get away from me. I’m ugly. Come back when I actually try to impress you.” Ugh!
Why is fate pulling on me like this? It’s obvious he’s not interested. And yet, fate keeps sending me these signals that he’s worth looking into. Fuck you, fate. Quit making me like him. He isn’t returning the favor. It’s time to start seeing his flaws.
Maybe it’s my overwhelming yearn for a guy’s attention, that ensures I never receive a guy’s attention. I guess I just need to start acting inaccessible. Too good for anyone. Standoffish. Unattainable. That’s just not who I am though. I’m ridiculously talkative. Friendly to anything. Seriously- anything. I’d walk up to a squirrel and befriend it, because that’s just who I am. I laugh at everything. Life is a huge joke for me. I run off chasing random ass dreams. I’ll never finish anything, but every single day I’ll start off on a new adventure- attempting a new project. And I’ll invite anyone to join me. I’m not a bitch, but that seems to be what guys want.
They want the mysterious girl. The girl who’s too good for everyone. The girl who shoots them down 20 times before even giving them a chance. As much as I’d like to have thousands of guys swooning over my egotistical confidence, I just can’t act that way. If a guy texts me, I don’t play games- I’ll text him back. I don’t think I’m too good for any one. I’d go on a date with everyone. Any one deserves a chance. And I don’t deny people. It’s rude and hurtful. I don’t play stupid dating games. And yet here I am- not getting any dates at all. While the girl fucking with everyone’s heads has a new date for each night of the week (with two separate dates on Saturday).