i wish someone would tell me what’s wrong with me. all people ever do is say that they’re the ones with the problem, that they’re the ones who can’t accept me for who i am. but what is it about me that makes it so hard to accept?
that my hair has a mind of its own? that i will never be thin? that i have neither boobs nor ass? that i expect punctuality? that i work hard at work? that i have an annoying laugh? that my sarcasm goes too far sometimes? that i am indifferent to the outdoors? that i like nice coffee shops and good music? that i would rather go to a museum than suntan all day? that my makeup is limited to eyeliner, mascara and lipgloss? that i don’t bother putting any of it on unless it’s a special occasion? that i don’t treat enough occasions as special? that i often apologise even when i don’t have to because i hate conflict? that i dress in black or grey most of the time? that i can’t cook very well? that i hate mothering people? that i don’t remind you of your mother?
is that it? is that why i am not worth any of your time, effort, emotions? is that why you look at me and think…no?