Monday, July 08, 2002
The world outside is growing gradually darker, matching my mood hue for hue. The computer speakers blaring the saddest songs I could find, I am sitting in my empty house mulling over my increasing dissatisfaction and distrust of this world and, expressly, the people living in it. I've never been beautiful, though there are days in the mirror when I imagine I see myself coming close. I blame this fact, and this fact alone, for my present loneliness and ever approaching fate as a spinster. Sometimes I dream of meeting a man who will look past the nose, and the flat chest, and the expanding rear. He won't play games or withold emotion and he will never put me down or call me stupid. Instead he will tell me that he thinks I'm pretty and worthy, and he will call himself lucky and blessed. But its just a dream.
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