But The Quest for Beauty is a Beast. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Despair Should I hope for miracles? Should I expect to be happy, healthy, and loved? I think not. This world is Fucked. I lie in bed, falling in and out of sleep. My mouth tastes of cotton, my limbs of butter. My brain is constantly whispering harsh realities to me in both my dreams and alertness. I finally pull myself up and get out of bed. Screaming, all the time. No one can be content, no one can be nice. My mom is yelling about the cell phone bill to my brother, but still promising to buy him a new skateboard because he snapped the one he just got a week ago. "Mom, they are so expensive!" I say. "It is your brother's mode of transportation," she says with an irritated note towards me. How dare I mention anything against her precious baby. It doesn't matter that he stole my game that my friend gave me and left it in tatters on his floor, nor that he steals expensive candy and sells it at school, or that he constantly steals money from her, or that he breaks his skateboard every time he wants a new one.... He is perfect, and she will never see how cruel he is. How he wrote a letter to his friend, and in it stated how he only uses girls to "get some" and then dumps them. He talked about how he was ready to dump his new girlfriend because she is slightly chubby. They are both yelling about something. My mom has just mopped the floor with ammonia. "Fuck, that shit stinks!" he yells. I am so mad at him that I can barely see straight. I hate no one more. Even his friends say that they don't know why they hang out with him anymore, and claim that he is an asshole to girls. I grab the ommonia, say, "It isn't a big deal!" and take a huge wiff of it. Suddenly my sinuses burn, and I can't breath. I stumble to my room, lock the door, and lie down. After a bit I try to do my homework but my eyes keep jumping around and my esophigous burns. I cry. My mom comes in, tells me how stupid that was, doesn't even ask if I am alright, and slams my door. I fall into a fitfull sleep. There is no hope. There never will be. I shall always be hated because I am a girl in this family. I am the only one of my generation. Lucky me. Will someone please pass me a shotgun? 3:23 a.m. - 2003-05-18 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- --------------------------------------- |
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