Thursday, 01/23/03 - 11:48 am.
I took Frog for a walk this morning. Finally, some sun for her and for me. It felt really good. I love it when it seems she and I are the only beings alive.
Before I took her out, Roberto called me. That cheered me up a little. He was obviously in a good mood.
Alan is arriving tonight. After dad picks me up at the UCA, we'll go to the airport.
And that's the happy side of my life right now.
I noticed last night how ugly I am. I already knew I wasn't the most beautiful girl in the world, and that's ok, no one really is (...the eye of the beholder and shit...). But Gosh, I can't believe what I saw in the mirror last night.
I'm getting fat, too. Getting fat is not bad. "Fat" (I wouldn't use that word because that's not what they are) girls are really pretty, and some of them make for the nicest friends. But me...I'm a bitch already. And I'd be uglier if I gained more weight. A fat, ugly bitch? I don't think so.
I won't get to have any Eating Disorder, that's for sure, because I have phobia to throwing up (childhood traumas). However, I'm concerned.
I couldn't stand looking at the mirror. I wanted to break it. I hate everything in my face (except for the eyes). I cut, but not so much. I never get to bleed more than one or two drops. And that's only because I'm scared my family could find out.
I feel so ugly. I hate going to the UCA, I see all those pretty girls, with shiny, long nails -I can NEVER have nice nails-. With thight clothes that fit so well -I dress up so lame-. With beautiful hair, so easy to handle -mine it's ugly, so shapeless and pale-. With light, colorful makeup -I don't even know how to put make up on-. With pretty faces, pretty smiles -I wish I could tear my own face apart-.
WHAT'S SO WRONG WITH ME? WHY CAN'T I BE HALF LIKE THEM?
I'm so ashamed of myself.
I think I have to go to the UCA earlier tomorrow. It's my dilemma. I may see him. I'm not sure I want to see him...what if he does it again? what if he ignores me again? I'm really scared, I won't lie. I'm scared he'll hurt me again. I wouldn't stand it, I wouldn't. He hurts me everyday, in a different way. I don't want to be hurt, not again. Not again.
If he hurts me again, I'll feel uglier, I know. I hate being ugly. I don't want that. I don't want him. He makes me feel like I'm not good enough. Hell, I know I am not good enough, why does he have to remind me?
I can't do nothing right.
If I could cut deep enough to stain my hands with my own blood...I feel better when I'm cleaning up my skin. He doesn't exist. No one else exists. Just me and the instinct of my body to heal itself.
I'd like to beat myself into the ground. And live in coma for the rest of my life.