I honestly don’t see myself as a pretty young woman. Honestly, I believe I’m the ugliest girl in the class. This is the reason why I don’t change my style. I’m afraid I would look more hideous than I already am, so I go for the lesser evil. I don’t want to take the risk. I’m scared.
When my friends have pretty friends that they interact with, I automatically act awkward towards them, that’s my way of telling them they’re pretty and I don’t think I deserve to have their attention. I’m actually allergic to good looking people, because I know once I start befriending them, my other friends would choose her over me. I don’t want that to happen, but it always does.
Whenever I’m with girls, I’m always the least noticed. I’m always the “extra”, the “other one”, and the ever so infamous “her friend”. I was never “Nessy”. I’m like the backdrop of the model or the chain of a key chain.
I’m not saying this just to hear people tell me I’m beautiful, because I don’t even care about how other people see me. The word “pretty” is subjective but it has a generalized definition. And I know I am not it. I don’t have it.
Don’t worry, out of all the people I know, only myself hears the negative word “ugly”, because I always choose to see good in people no matter how hard it is. And trying to fight the urge of acting like a jerk to fools is one of my specialties, that’s why I badly need a blog, a blog where my innermost annoying thoughts will be.
It’s a bit late, but welcome to my pessimistic/realistic/depressive/illusionistic blog. Enjoy reading my heart and my mind’s story.
10/10 | 00:29