I don't understand what it is about me that makes people think they can say hurtful things and it be ok. Maybe it's the fact that they could beat me up just by looking at me. Maybe it's because i put myself down so much they think they should join in. But no more (she cries, Braveheart style) I've had enough. <*dv_0*> I'm sick of it, it's seriously starting to make me want to put a paper bag on my head and join Jenny Craig. "What could have started this?" I hear you not saying. Well I'm going to tell you anyway you apathetic bunch of bastards. I'm sick of people masking criticism with flattery. For example a while ago whilst in a pub with a pseudo friend of mine, we were talking about blokes and what we think they think when they first see us. Basically we were bigging each other up, because of the distinct lack of man action we have been getting lately. So I would say something nice about my friend and she about me, back and fore we go. You know the game. With my friend it's not so hard she's tall, slim and blond. A female version of Legolas (lord of the rings), so I just state the obvious. Now I know that compared to her I am Gimli (the dwarf), but come on and play the game bitch. Don't tell the truth. If I wanted the truth I'd put the light on when I'm getting ready to go out (or ask my mother), but I don't. So lie like a good
friend. Instead she decides maybe because she's had a shandy too many (lightweight skinny bitch) to tell me what she believes to be true. Starting with a lovely physical observation about the size of my arse. She says " they must think she's pretty I like her but then you turn around and you have such a
big butt" and so i say "well sticking two fingers down my throat just because i smelled an eclaire doesn't really appeal to me as much as you". Good retort, Mart. (Pat on the back) Except I don't, I laugh and make some pathetic remark which basically agrees with the big bitch. I have a problem with confrontation as you can tell (except with you guys because you don't know where I live), I always think of something witty or hurtful to say afterwards. While they are congratulating themselves on how funny they have been, I'm really telling them off (in my head). Basically I was raised in a treat others as you wish to be treated (when your dad is there) household. So I can't believe that anyone would want to put someone down that way. I mean we all know how insecure we are. Each of us have our idiosyncrasies, it's the one thing we have in common. So why oh why would you throw stones at other people when you're in a glass house yourself. I'd like to think this is why I don't retort. That it's because I'm bigger than they are, more emotionally mature. I don't need to put others down to feel better about myself. That I rise above, like some sort of ethereal being. Yeah right blah blah blah. <*dv_3*> But it's not. I'm a wimp.
1) I'm scared they will hit me
2) I'm scared they will get upset
<*dv_1*> 3) I want people to like me. (even ones that make me feel shit about myself)
4)I'm so scared that once i start I won't stop until i have their heart in my hands and I'm squeezing......................................................................... (you get the picture) I don't know why I am so needy, but it's a knee jerk reaction that I have never managed to shake. Just the way am i, I guess. Never will change. Never reveal my true feelings. Never say "well at least I earned my cellulite, it wasn't given to me for free. You might be skinny but your arse still looks like cottage cheese, Cow. Maybe if you put on some weight guys would look at you because they could actually see you. You'd actually exist again. Stick out your tongue and you'd look like a zip. Eat something and I wouldn't feel I had to apologize for actually having breasts. Living on water and cigarettes isn't a diet it's a death wish. Die soon please BITCH...................................................JUST
DDDDDDDDDIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Yeah maybe I should just keep my thought's to myself. Going postal never ends well.
Martina
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