I don't understand my own mood, my frame of mind... It just can not be framed.
A few moments ago, I looked myself over. A long, hard look in the harsh light of reality, and that of a mirror too.
My youth has escaped me, simply slipped by without warning. I've no more chances for wild fun, for making mistakes, for being beautiful. My once firm body is firm no more, is covered in battle scars. It isn't youthful. It isn't beautiful. It simply is.
I got glasses this week. Now I feel old. That was the icing on the cake... The things I didn't realize I wasn't seeing with razor sharp clarity anymore. Even just the minor, pathetically weak prescription that it is, makes me feel so old. So worn out, so un-sexy. I look geeky, which would be fine- if I were an uber hot geek who all the other geektards wanted to fuck. I'm not. I'm not sure that I even qualify as a MILF anymore.
Fuck an A. I used to be hot. Well, ok... for a 15 year old, before my body was totally trashed by pregnancy. I worked my ass off, and deserved the rock hard abs, tight ass, toned thighs.
Normally I'm not this vain. Really. No, I mean it. I'm not.
Things in my life, my body, my mind, they're all changing so rapidly. The sense of urgency is almost as strong as the sadness that possess me. In retrospect, I gave it all away. I blew my life away. All the things I *could* control, I used to fight the reality that they were preparing to saddle me with... and I bought myself this new, not so pretty, murky little pond to swim (wallow) in. I did it to myself, but I didn't have a clue what I was doing, or why. Just that I had to do something to change what was happening.
Strangely enough, the only things that actually matter to me are the things that I stand to lose if I can't roll with this tide. If I can't force this sense of urgency to become productivity, to drive me to success, or at least to veer me away from perpetual failure.
Ever have that feeling like you're floating in space, caught in a vacuum, you can feel your lungs being torn apart by the pressure... I can't breathe. I know what I have to do, I know, I fucking know damn it. Its the only obvious thing in my life.
I've been accused of being angry/irritated all of the time. As in 100% of the time. Well, I'm not. I'm scared shitless of my own inadequacy. Even though I can't say that to your face, and even though I become defensive and project irritation/anger, I'm not actually angry. I'm afraid. So fucking afraid.
Its amazing how far a little encouragement goes, or a little security, or a little compliment, or a little assurance, or a little positivity... Its amazing how much of a difference being acknowledged as more than a simple failure, a no longer youthful failure, can change someone's perspective. Seems like I'm always changing someone else's perspective, but can't change my own.
God, how wrong is it to want to be loved? To be of worth to someone? To be wanted? To be beautiful? To be good enough...
A few moments ago, I looked myself over. A long, hard look in the harsh light of reality, and that of a mirror too.
My youth has escaped me, simply slipped by without warning. I've no more chances for wild fun, for making mistakes, for being beautiful. My once firm body is firm no more, is covered in battle scars. It isn't youthful. It isn't beautiful. It simply is.
I got glasses this week. Now I feel old. That was the icing on the cake... The things I didn't realize I wasn't seeing with razor sharp clarity anymore. Even just the minor, pathetically weak prescription that it is, makes me feel so old. So worn out, so un-sexy. I look geeky, which would be fine- if I were an uber hot geek who all the other geektards wanted to fuck. I'm not. I'm not sure that I even qualify as a MILF anymore.
Fuck an A. I used to be hot. Well, ok... for a 15 year old, before my body was totally trashed by pregnancy. I worked my ass off, and deserved the rock hard abs, tight ass, toned thighs.
Normally I'm not this vain. Really. No, I mean it. I'm not.
Things in my life, my body, my mind, they're all changing so rapidly. The sense of urgency is almost as strong as the sadness that possess me. In retrospect, I gave it all away. I blew my life away. All the things I *could* control, I used to fight the reality that they were preparing to saddle me with... and I bought myself this new, not so pretty, murky little pond to swim (wallow) in. I did it to myself, but I didn't have a clue what I was doing, or why. Just that I had to do something to change what was happening.
Strangely enough, the only things that actually matter to me are the things that I stand to lose if I can't roll with this tide. If I can't force this sense of urgency to become productivity, to drive me to success, or at least to veer me away from perpetual failure.
Ever have that feeling like you're floating in space, caught in a vacuum, you can feel your lungs being torn apart by the pressure... I can't breathe. I know what I have to do, I know, I fucking know damn it. Its the only obvious thing in my life.
I've been accused of being angry/irritated all of the time. As in 100% of the time. Well, I'm not. I'm scared shitless of my own inadequacy. Even though I can't say that to your face, and even though I become defensive and project irritation/anger, I'm not actually angry. I'm afraid. So fucking afraid.
Its amazing how far a little encouragement goes, or a little security, or a little compliment, or a little assurance, or a little positivity... Its amazing how much of a difference being acknowledged as more than a simple failure, a no longer youthful failure, can change someone's perspective. Seems like I'm always changing someone else's perspective, but can't change my own.
God, how wrong is it to want to be loved? To be of worth to someone? To be wanted? To be beautiful? To be good enough...
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