I go shopping looking for the perfect top. The kind that I see models wear on billboards and magazines. The top that ever girl dreams about looking good In. I walk in the most busy store in the mall to find manikins without faces dressed in the latest trend. I grab multiple tops, pants and dresses anything I can get my hands on that says “I’m trendy”. Get to the dressing room only to find that the only thing that fits me is the tears running perfectly in a line across my checks. I now have this overcoming of pure hatred towards myself for letting myself become so far from what’s suppose to be perfect. I gain confidence just to be bleached away by depression. I want so badly to be the skinny one or to have the power to look good in anything I throw over my body. It sounds so easy to diet and be active. If only it was as easy as typing the words out. I’m tired of feeling like I’m not worth anything because I don’t fit in the clothes I want to wear.
Today I start my second job right after school. It’s about to be stressful as fuck but I just have to keep thinking keep my shit together for two years and I’ll never have to do this again. I’m ready to kick ass.
I’m in love.
Not the kind that hits you for a little bit then the universe pulls you away and you forget all about it. The kind you couldn’t forget about even if you forced it. The kind your life surrounds your self in. This kind that gives you butterflies even years down the road. The kind that is always there, even when you doubt for a split second it’s not. I’m so lucky. I’m so happy.