don't read between the lines

sometimes when i write things like i'm going to write right now, i'm afraid people think i have an ulterior motive. when all i'm really doing is writing about images, so i can never forget them and how they felt.

this morning i woke up warm, the heater was off but the room still felt like toast. i looked at the clock and realized that i could lie there for one more hour before my alarm would ring, and i didn't notice at first but i had kicked all the blankets off of me in the night and that the shirt i had been wearing was on the floor. i had done this a few times before, so i didn't think much of it. night stripping, i guess. and when i look at myself and see my breasts, i always want to touch them. in high school, i was so ashamed of what i looked like, not because i thought i was ugly, but because no one else had told me i was beautiful or pretty. besides my mom, but she doesn't count. now, because of previous validation, i don't really worry anymore. i think sometimes that it's sad i needed to hear it from someone else, but really how else do you know. anyways, high school is a confusing time and nothing seems how it really is at all. it's like Alice in Wonderland where you can't believe what is going on in front of you. all these changes. all that misery.

then there are times when you wanted to write about how you touch yourself in the morning, but it ends up being another post about self worth. go figure.  
¶ 9:14 AM |