I really do have some issues with myself. Really. They aren't fun.
I don't appreciate going out with someone that I care a great deal for because they wanted to see me and they were going be nearby so they came to pick me up only at have them flirting with other females.
Seriously?
I KNOW that I am not beautiful. Pretty. Sexy. Cute. Any of those. I know that I am not.
I KNOW that I am overweight (a.k.a. FAT).
I KNOW that I am socially awkward and don't know how to act in social situations.
But I really wish that I could feel good about myself with someone in public without them hitting on other females that are prettier or more publicly sexual than I am. It really doesn't help much more than to make me feel even more insecure about myself than I already was.
I hate myself.
I hate my stomach. My thighs. My upper arms. My face. My chin. My stretch marks. My hands. My feet. My freckles. My lips. My eyes. My ears. My tears. My smiles. My frowns. My emotions. My mind. The way I walk. The way I talk. My personality. My sexuality. My inadequacy.
I hate myself from head to toe and everything in between.
And nothing makes that better. Things really just make it worse.
I hate myself. And I really hate the fact that I do.
I try to change it....
And then I fall back down.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
4 comments:
Hugs her more. Christie dear one..You are beautiful. If only you could hear the comments about you from the photoshoot. Everyone that has viewed them talks about what a beautiful young woman you are. You have amazing eyes. A warm and gentle smile which everyone should see. You are beautiful on the inside as well. Those who think otherwise are blind. If they only knew the true you, they would think differently. We really ought to do another photoshoot. I know a lovely place we can shoot at. I am not working next weekend. If you are up to it..maybe we can have a girls day out again. ::hugs:: We can dress you up and everything..I really would love to paint you up like a Harajuka girl..(don't think I spelled that right) I am also good at styling hair as well. Please let me know.
Hugs and love
Krista
You are sweet, Krista dear.
It isn't what people tell me. It is how I feel towards myself and the actions of others than fuel how I feel towards myself.
You are too good to me, dear.
I have been unemployed for about a month and a half now. I don't have any money to put towards gas. I get some from mom because I have to go to class and the like. No one wants to hire me.
Also, you may be good at styling hair, but I have kind of chopped mine off shorter than it was when we did that shoot.
Hugs.
You are too good to me.
Wow..I can't believe no one will hire you. That is unreal. Have you tried places like Starbucks? Bookstores would be good too. Too bad they don't have a Torrid in Maryville. The girls who work there get discounts on their cool clothes.
Just some suggestions.
Anyhow, it sounds like times are pretty rough for you. I wish I could make it better somehow.
The world in general is in a whirlwind presently. Its going through a lot of changes energy wise. The winds of confusion are here and its a rough ride. But, we can keep ourselves from drowning by focusing on the more positive even when the world seems so negative. We don't need to get pulled down into the quagmire. I have learned a technique to protect myself from that thanks to IndigoGenie on myspace...Goto her myspace site. She has much information there and ways for "sensitives" to keep from falling into the mud as it were.
Hugs
Krista
I have applied at many places. Not Starbucks. But some of the bookstores in Oak Ridge and Knoxville. Places between here and Oak Ridge. No one wants to hire someone who got fired. Particularly for getting into it with a supervisor even if they didn't actually do it.
But I have another interview tomorrow. I'm hoping that this pans out. I really need a job.
It isn't your problem, dear. Nor your job to make things better. I deal. I'm not happy and my head near constantly hurts, but I do manage.
You are a sweetheart.
Thank you.
Hugs.
Post a Comment