my riches can't buy everything...

61st post. Congratulations, me.

I have this idea that everyone else's life is like... some road somewhere, and they're just a car going along. And they might break down, or they might take a wrong turn, but eventually they're going to get there. And me? I never even made it out of the garage. The road might be out there, or it might not be, but I can't even get the door to go up to let me out. Cliches and metaphors abound tonight.


Apparently five-year-olds think I'm pretty, but why can't twentysomethings? And if some certain twentysomethings did think I was pretty, how would I even know? I will never fully let myself accept that some people may sometimes find me pretty. It's odd, considering my preteen/early teen years and the acting and modeling and pageants, the years when my looks made up most of what mattered and when someone told me I was pretty, I knew they were right. But now? I have no idea, now. I've tortured myself so much for so long that I don't think I will ever fully believe anything good about myself.


I feel some catharsis coming on. I hope it's soon...