Failure.

When people tell me how pretty I am, I feel that it’s all lies. You’re suppose to be nice to me, you’re my friends, my family.

Action speaks louder than words. Obviously I can’t be that pretty when I haven’t even been able to feel it for the past 19 years of my life.

I try so hard with make up to look appealing, but it hasn’t gotten me anywhere. I don’t care how drunk you were when you called me beautiful, it’s all empty words in the end when you’re trying to get in my pants. It’s all a bunch of lies, with all your actions and words because after you kissed me, you treated me like a stranger. You don’t know what it feels like to have never been truly liked and been treated that way because you have. You don’t know how much I want it, because you’ve had or have it.

I’m going to school to become successful to help me build myself into a person that can support myself and to attract others with my skills when I’m older. That leads to finding a SO, and starting a family. Everything we do is to find someone, and better yet someone you love. But it doesn’t feel like my odds are too great.

I’m so depressed when I think of this subject everyday and night. It’s become a habit. To feel bad about myself and cry myself to sleep.

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