i am not them.

i’m growing depressed. emotions tend to happen when i fast. starving creates thought opening my mind. sleeplessness is an opening to the other world.

i look at pictures of those who live the life you live and i feel so distant from your expectations. in your mind this is the world you live in, not the one that surrounds you physically. a world of beautiful rich blonde people. perfect skin, perfect smiles. you world is nothing like mine, a place where people struggle to survive. people in your world need to create false problems because there lives are too perfect. people in my world are happy to have food, a roof, and routine lives.

my fave is marred by the sun, acne and frizz. her face marred by piercings i could never afford, hair three shades of expensive salon colors on a monthly basis. my clothes handed down hers torn by sweat shop hands to look tattered. she writes about being homeless yet her outfit cost more than my wardrobe. how can you be poor under all that make up. how can you afford drugs and ciggarettes if you can’t afford food.

i do not understand this world, with its problems and tears. i do not know how to comepete with youth and product. i am just me. i feel so unpretty when i look at these pictures. i know you see them and wonder why i don’t look like that. so do i.

but i have a job that demands my time. i have a lifestyle that demands sleep. i have no time for friends nor do i have the hours and money for routine beauty treatments. i will never be those girls no matter how hard i try. will you ever see the girl that I am.

strong independent able to weather real life. i am a survivor which is something these crying tatoo clad little girls never will be. sometimes its the ugliest bush that stands when all of the roses have fallen.

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