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Not thrilled about gettin out of bed.

I haven’t had anything anonymous..

Or otherwise in my box for like a month.

Feeling like I look pretty decent today. Good thing, cause I have an interview.

Ask me anything

I’m feeling talkative.

I’m scared I’m loosing me.

I don’t know who I’m becoming. All.I know is that I don’t like it.

I want to be sweet and level headed. That’s all I had going for me. Now I just am bitter and angry and I’m not good looking at all, so I’m just worthless as a person.

Im not sure if it is my job or just where I’m at in life right now, but I don’t like it at all. I feel terrible, like I’m going onto change too much and I’ll loose everyone. I dunno what ti do. I’m trying so hard, I just can’t seem to figure it all out. Me out. Life out..

Ask me anything.

Gunna be up all night.

I really wish I was sexy.
Right now I can’t find any clothes that fit because I’m too thin.

I want to have a nice ads that fills out pants.

I want to have nice abs that flex when I stretch.

I want nice thighs so I can look good in underwear, and that v line from my obliques.

I want a nice jaw line, and white teeth. Muscley arms, and a nice chest.

Tan just enough to have color.

I wish I could gain weight so bad, and look good, instead of frail and sick, awkward and deprived.

I want to be hot and.sexy, not.small, white, and what people say is “cute.”

Talk to me, I don't bite.

My last message on here was three months ago. Did you all give up on me?

Once upon a time..

There was a sad, crushed little boy who would stay in his room all day long and cry himself to sleep at night, thinking about nothing but having someone to lay there with him and hold him until the tears would go away.
This boy was scared of the world; he feared rejection and was terrified to go out on his own. But one day, he faced a decision; continue to witness his family fall apart and shatter into insanity, or make his own way in the world and work towards happiness.
So that boy packed his things and flew all the way across the country to a city in which he didn’t know a soul. All alone in his apartment, laying on the floor; again he would cry himself to sleep at night wishing for nothing but someone to hold him until the tears would stop.
Another boy came along, one who held the promise of being those arms that would make him feel safe. For months, the boy went along, letting the other into his life; taking over his home, habits, mind, and soul. Completely blind and consumed by the thought that maybe, for once, someone actually wanted to be with him for no other reason that he was just himself.
But then someone else walked into his life. Actually, stumbled.. tripped through the doorway and landed on top of him. This wasn’t another boy, nor another guy who would just mess around and leave, crushing the boy’s soul even more. This was a man, one who noticed the small things. One who really cared. But he had his own problems, ones that wouldn’t allow him to weave himself fully into the fabric of the boy’s life, he was the thread that sat next to the fabric; both of them wanted the other to be stitched in, but neither was able to accomplish the task.
one day, someone.. and no one knows who or how it happened, someone picked up the needle and stitched them together.. and instantly, everyone knew that they were the perfect pairing.. the dress that would turn heads or the pants that fit so well you never want to take them off.
So the boy now lays down to go asleep, after a long day of work, in the soft bed in his new apartment; the one he shares with the man he loves, and the man that loves him; the only person in the world that dared to take a chance to look through the small, fragile facade and see the lost, lonely boy that just needed to be found. With his head on the pillow, he falls asleep peacefully in the arms of the one who took the time to wrap his arms around him and make the tears stop falling.
The end.

I wonder if people miss me.

Those people from my past, the friends I used to talk to everyday.. and especially my parents.

I mean, if my child wasn’t in my life, I would feel terrible.  

This shirt makes my eyes look good. And I’m bored.
Another sick day with Rawr Kitty.

Maybe I’m just a piece of art.

An object for people to see. To observe. To connect with, interpret all my lines, what I have, what I’m lacking. To see the pain in my eyes, the longing for affection.

And then walk away, onto the next piece in the gallery.

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