Thursday, October 29, 2015

Guacamole epiphany

Ahhhhh... the loveliness that is the cool down stage.

I've written so many posts... but decide against posting them because, as always, they're pretty fucked up. They're either suicidally depressed, terrifyingly aggro, or incoherent as fuck... actually, they're USUALLY incoherent as fuck. Regardless of the vibe, they're all posts I prefer not putting out into the internet.

It's strange how my true "voice" comes out when I'm at my angriest. Get me to reach the highest level of outrage, and just watch my inner, very distinct voice pop out in all of its depressed, ghetto glory.

This has proven to be the best therapy for me. I need to release everything I'm feeling... cry as desperately as I'd like while re-reading this shit... and then just forgetting it exists.
Either my thoughts make sense and teach me to watch out around certain people in my life, open a gateway to how I could possibly FIX my problem... or it just opens my eyes to how fucking hysterical I can get when I bottle up too much for too long.

Yesterday was a nice clearing for me, after I found myself crying into my guacamole (no, really. I cry such giant tears, they roll right into my food most of the time).
See, I ran some errands yesterday afternoon, which ended in me shopping at a nearby mall. As I went from one store to another, all sorts of dudes hollered at me. From catcalls, to dudes stopping me at the food court, to randomly getting offered a job at Nike-- dudes were all about complimenting me... being very nice and gentlemanly toward me.

I hear girls normally like this. But I'm not normal. I'm AnoMALIE. I CRY. I get upset.
I'm not accustomed to others being nice to me, much less being attracted to me. It's always so foreign to me. And this upsets me.

Recently, I've switched up my look, especially my makeup.
I am currently obsessed with the cateye, and I'm experimenting with how dramatic I can make the swoop without it making me look too mentally unstable. I'm also into dark lip color... purples and dark red, to be exact (I can't quite make the leap to black... but I have the dopest deep purple that is the fucking BEST color I've ever found).
I'm also on the final stages of growing out my hair (counting down the hours until November 2nd), and it's a fucking pain in the ass. Instead of blowdrying my hair or applying hair product and all that shit, I just pick it up in a high ponytail and braid (I'm gonna miss the creative liberties I've taken with these braids. I should be hired on the GoT set... I can braid like the best of them. Of course, this was bound to happen, given that my fucking ponytail is 23 inches long-- a motherfucking whip!). Apparently, from what others have told me, this really showcases my eyes and cheekbones (what's left of them, that is. I'm so fucking haggard looking most of the time. I think I have a sad-dog face, but hey... that's just me... I think... I hope?). "It kind of makes you look asian... all exotic n shit."

SO, I'm guessing this new look makes me more noticeable to dudes, which is not something I was going for... I was just getting creative with my face.
Why does the attention bring me to tears? Because I can't help but feel heartbroken over the fact that FUCK my personality (I'm cool as fuck. And Smart. And kind. I don't give a shit what some people may say. I KNOW I am at LEAST those three adjectives), that shit is fucking worthless... what matters it what you do with your face! My worth seems to be measured by something THAT FUCKING SIMPLE. And it fucks me up. It's so fucking ridiculous and... FUCKING RIDICULOUS.
I'll never get over that shit... regardless of how much time may pass. The fact that the majority of humanity measures my worth based on my fucking physical appearance FUCKS ME UP.
To be on the receiving end of mistreatment looking one way (fat, no make up), and then suddenly being venerated the moment you switch your look... is mindfucking as HELL.
Guys wouldn't mind tossing me off a bridge as a fat girl (or are willing to shoulder-check me into on-coming traffic when I'm not wearing an ounce of makeup)... guys are calling me every polite and charming word in the dictionary WHEN I HAVE NOTICEABLE/OFTEN EXCESSIVE AMOUNTS OF MAKE UP ON MY FACE. That is NOT cool.

SO! This had me crying into my guacamole yesterday.
And that point seemed to be the climax of my depression... or... is it the opposite of a climax, since depression is more like hitting rock-bottom?
Whatever. This little meltdown had me going to bed crying my eyes out... then suddenly, BOOM! Clarity in the morning.
I guess I finally cried out all of my frustration...
aaaaaaand I'm good.

I am a-ok.

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