Dear Jacksonville,

I am so over you.
Military town, go fuck yourself.
Filled with sluts, and cheaters.
I will not miss you.
With you and your jarheads that fuck me over, over and over.
Mike
Myke
Taubl
Justin
Dan
Cody
1
2
3
4
5
6
GO FUCK YOUR SELF
Jarheads.
All the same.

I will not apologize for being educated and being busy with my college education.
I will not apologize for being a full figured women, a real women.
I will not apologize for not fucking you at sight.
I will not apologize for not being like every girl in this town who open their legs, with a smile and a wave.
I will not apologize for well being me.
Get over it.
I'm real.
Not fake.
Done.

It's summer
And I can feel all the brewing mistakes and mis-haps
I'll be nineteen in
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
days.
I'm counting down to headache and heartbreak
To trouble and disappointment.
This isn't going at all how I wanted it too.
But when does it ever for me.
This summer I wanted no free time.
I wante a summer sonsmed by fun and excitiment
by love and friends.
But this summer its summer school and bordeom.
And un-fulfilled wishes.

I'm tired of making the same wishes.
please just come true already.

I wish it was last year.

And not right now.

Growing up, is not something I’m trying to do.

With two days left, I’ll be a sophomore in college.

And my first year of college all adds up to:

Loss of new friends,

Loss of self-motivation,

Loss of endless sleep,

Loss of potentiality,

Loss of nothing I wanted to loose.

I’m tired, so, so tired of life.

And I’m only eighteen.

How sad.

Everything, everything is not going in the least bit in the way I wanted or expected it to. 

No Boyfriend.

No new friends.

No ah-ha moment for the future.

Just the same, same, same BULLSHIT.

No matter how many attempts I make to change who I am, to get him.

It doesn’t work.

It just gets worse.

I kill

Kill

Kill

Kill

My confidence and avoiding mirrors is all I can do at this point from not doing the worst.

I have managed to pick apart everything about me, and murder all the chances that I would think I was beautiful enough. The truth is, I’ll never be as beautiful as her, or as smart, or as witty and charming. I’ll be me.

Boring.

Boring.

Boring.

Me, who really, doesn’t want the world to move nor stop. Me, who holds all the complication with implications of disastrous notions.  Me, who just wishes, and wishes that the stars will fall down, and crush me before I get the chance to do it myself.

Just me, with no cool and interesting stories.

Just me, who is way to shy to even think w/o jumbling my own thoughts.

Just me, who can’t seem to keep up with you or anybody around me.

I’m me.

And that just doesn’t seem good enough.

Outlooks on life are pretentious, pointless, and bias but here I go anyways.

Watch me complain.

I lack social skills, and I apparently have a serious case of anti-sociability. I have enough friends already and know to much people I already hate, lets not add to that list please. But I’m hating life at this moment b/c I can’t seem to find anyone who finds me the least bit attractive or wants to date me. It’s all social skills and luck, and I’m lacking in both.  I’m picking myself apart, and killing my self-esteem, what to do, what to do? I’m to young to worry about it, but it’s a fall-back habit that always sinks into my train of thought, everyday, everyday, everygodamnday. I’m looking for break, where I don’t have to worry about thing, and don’t have to imagine, but live it. In my books it’s all bullshit and this concept of love is a virus, and I’ve been infected to the highest degree.