these ships

are you the sort of woman
who wears make up when you sleep?
does the sight of lipstick on his collar
make you want to weep?
did you realise he was just
another boring metaphor
when he shouted you are perfect
and whispered for a whore...?

is his beauty really wonderful
or carved trouble deep?
did you notice when he said
i do not want you 'till you're cheap
did you think he wouldn't look at you
until he saw your ribs?
did you think perhaps he'd love you
if you tried to shrink your hips?

when he smiles does it hurt
because he paralysed your lips?
will it ruin his career
if you choose to sink these ships?
when you slip your fingers down your throat
do you think of him?
did he let you tell yourself
that nothing tastes as good

as being thin?

the trick is to keep breathing

today i noticed my first wrinkles. they are on my forehead, which assumes that i have been very surprised for a 21 year old. regardless, wrinkles mean that your body is tattooing you with the notion that you have had a lot of a useful emotion... why cover that over with a blank stare?

i wear very little makeup these days.
most of the attractive women over 40 that i have the pleasure of knowing do not wear much makeup and they look better for it.... better than they believe they look. most of the girls my own age look best first thing in the morning and dont believe this either.

i know my appearence is all downhill from here. i struggle daily with my weight to the point where i am given embarrassing labels and the girls around me always look far more beautiful than i do, effortlessley.

the least i can do is make sure i dont look pretend.

lectures

yesterday we learned about narcissicm (sp) and now i am very embarrassed.

perceptions and a pep talk

here's a little secret for the world wide web...
i often worry about what people think of me.
i think it is natural to do this, and if you don't, then congratulations on being enlightened.

however, it is unhealthy to worry too much, which is why i have come to realise that when it feels like i cant rely on anyone else to pick me up, shake me and call me a dickhead, i should just do it to myself.

being lonely can teach you a lot, and it isnt all bad.

fastwind

i have spent years developing an interchangeable, fluid skin which both rips and thickens in odd layers at its own unpredictable discretion.

as i grow up, responsibility quietly compromises all of my dreams and sprinkles pessimism everywhere.

i boringly observe everything around me and only find any truth in nature.
the longer i spend around people my own age, the more i like my parents.

on some old cassette players, when you hit fast forward and rewind at the same time, they would become stuck and made a horrible repetetive clicking noise until you hit down harder on one button to put the other out of its misery.

i love useless self indulgent metaphors, they behave like laxatives.

one day

one day i am going to keep a tally on one arm of how often i have a silly thought about death and a tally on the other of how often i think about my appearence and i shall report back with numbers, and then get a real hobby and maybe a grip.

"Trying to look good limits my life." -Stefan Sagmeister

ltd.

perhaps no women

is happy with herself inside and out.

and

perhaps most women

would rather be big and satisfied rather than small and insecure.