If… Okay. So. It all started with two fuck-ups: Adam and Eve. (Of course, it could easily be seen as Eve being the fuck-up, but Adam did what? Nothing. That’s a fuck-up. He also listened to Eve when she told him to bite the apple, too. What a dumbass. I mean, if she said she just put a gun up to her head and shot it, and that she’s fine, so he should try it, too! Would he? Probably. What a fuck-up.) (Oh, and to make it clear, I’m not going against the fact that women should be listened to, and that if we say to do something, don’t do it—because I’m not saying that AT all. But, then again.. I’m not one to say that the woman is always right, and the man’s always wrong. Or vice versa. Because, pleh. That’s way too broad of a statement to be true to every woman and man. I know a lot of stupid women. Don’t listen to them. Ha.)
If Eve hadn’t taken a bite out of the forbidden fruit, and then had Adam do it as well, then nakedness wouldn’t be obvious to people. For lack of better phrasion, the fruit opened up the eyes of the human race, as unfortunate as it is (ignorance truly is bliss). I really wonder whether we’d be such assholes all the time if they hadn’t been the first couple of people to fuck up.
Something I find sincerely interesting (and it truly keeps reeling me in time after time) is how judged people are, how categorized and labeled people become, and how much of a chance a person is given (when it comes to anything, really) just by their outer appearance. I feel as if it’s wrong, and I’m sure most people feel that way if they think it through, but I find serious concern within myself when it comes to these issues. Maybe I feel as if this issue pertains to me, whether it’s for my benefit or not, but being aware of the situation and my own insecurities, I feel like I’m judged and labeled and maybe not given the right chances… Then again, I am. And I’m lucky because a lot of times, I feel like I’m the only one who notices certain things about me (which I’m almost totally grateful for, but sometimes un- because I’m kind of scared to fuckin’ death that someone’s going to notice and spread the word so fast that my life’ll be over as I ever knew it and loved it to be).
I’ve come to a couple realizations: "I'm a weird combo. Like, so interesting and mysterious, but put together wrong- slightly." (10:43a -09 Jun 22) That’s what attracts people to me.
"..People..do not even look like this inside of their body!" I'm just as fucked up as the next guy, but instead of being that way on just the inside or the outside, on the inside I FEEL like I’m like that on the outside. --I'm not at all how I look to you (long legs, pretty hair, cute style, what have you), how I look to me (like a freakin' badass motorcycle bitch, blah blah or a Disney Princess) but something completely different-- like how I truly am, how God truly made me (..perfect in every way/just right with a side of absolutely nothing awkward and nothing slightly off). No wonder some people think we're ugly, weird, or gorgeous while we're thinking we're awkward or better than how we feel recognized as far as treatment goes." (8:09p -09 Jun22) (Yes, the first quote is completely nonunderstandable and spoken in very unsober-like phrasing. Forgive me for not explaining that part, as well. As for the rest, it seems pretty self-explanatory in my opinion.)
Apparently, as it’s been diagnosed by a far-close person to me, I try to figure things out about physical appearances because I have personal issues with how I look and how people perceive me as opposed to how I feel like people should view me—outer and inner. Perhaps this reasoning is completely correct. In fact, it seems like I’m not really denying it, but I’m not admitting to that, and I’m not really feeling like exploring that possibility or its opposition. Could be that I’m in denial again. It’s more of a carefree, easy-going denial that I have. Personally, I don’t think it’s hurting me, and it’s not setting me backwards. If anything—my special denial is helping me move on—progress.
The point is: I was on drugs when I wrote those quotes, and the realization of the actual meaning of what I was thinking brought me happiness and took some weight off my shoulders. To be honest, I don’t really care if you think I’m a retard, because at least, now I feel like I’m who I am, who I’m supposed to be, who I was made and meant to be. Things that happen to me are meant to happen to me. People who come across my path are meant to. I might not get what I want all the time, or who I want, but there isn’t anything at all wrong with me, and it’s kind of saddening to know that I have felt that way for a long time. (Of course I always used the “I am who I am, take it or leave it” phrase, but really, I just wanted to be picked, and I wasn’t most of the time. I made myself seem brave and compliant, but I was crushed and I looked for what was wrong.) (Once again, nothing’s wrong, and if it turns out that I don’t end up with a killer career, it’s probably because I’m meant to experience a lot of everything! And if I don’t end up with whoever I want to, it might just be because I wasn’t build for an add-on. Why should I feel bad about that? Why should I feel bad about myself for that? ..I shouldn’t, and I saw that the other night. I’m perfect, to God, and that’s what it comes down to, and that’s all that should’ve mattered the whole time.) I truly hope to be better now. Maybe you will be, too.
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