Applied Poison

Sh*t sh*t.

I just put on makeup. Ohhhhh sh*t!! Goddamnit!

Anyone who know me should know.. when I put on makeup, it's not a good thing. It means, I'm desperate. Desperate to change how I look or to have a sense of security. Makeup is a poison thing. It's an apply-able instant confidence booster that makes you feel pretty, but feel ugly whenever you take it off. It means, I want to forget just for a day. This is the first time I've worn it in about.. Six or seven months..?

To make matters worse, I'm wearing tight pants. I NEVER wear tight pants. This is my only pair, dark blue and cotton. Flattering to my form. And that shirt that shows of my long neck and collarbone. This is not good..
And I'm going out to 'party'. I only do this when I feel lonely and I want to get away, and be free.
... This is not good. No no no. Not good at all.

The pills.. don't work. A disappointment. And no, they are not prep pills. I'm not being preppy because it's a sideaffect of my meds.
--

Yeah.. I'm going to blow dry my hair. Oh sh... Hypocrisy. No... No no no. I don't want to be what I hate..!

And my dad is being grumpy-ish. I don't like today. Last night was a dream, today is a nightmare... Well.. Last night was okay. At least, because I slept well, and my parents were strangely lovey towards me. Dad said how proud he was of me, and mom napped with me and said variation of the same. It was odd.. Really odd. Every now and then they do this, but I'm not used to it. I'm used to meeting their expectations with no real sign of approval.

When I want to feel pretty, I'm depressed. Depressed and wanting to be loved. Therefore, makeup. Therefore, flattering clothes. Pretend to be someone, not me, who is no one.
Oh sigh.. It doesn't help when mom says I look pretty. I look pretty with poison and I look pretty pretending I'm not me. I don't like it.. Yet I do. It helps me numb.

I feel sick.. I dislike this. Where is Zandry when ya need him..