posted on June 10, 2004 @ 6:32 pm
it has come to my attention that i am a terrible person. not morally so much, but in every other aspect. i'm a terrible bore. i never have anything of interest to say. when in line at the post office, i say things like, "did you know they can't show pubic hair in japanese porn?" to strangers behind me. if someone said something like that to me, i would have laughed. who says that to strangers? the two strangers, strangers to each other until he commented on her asian-inspired shirt and then began conversation of things japanese, simply stared. one second of staring, then returning to their conversation as if i'd said nothing. i turned back around and looked down, staring at owen's address on the envelope i held.
in incidents like this, i think my physical appearance plays a part. i'm just another short, ugly girl with dumb glasses and lips that are disproportionately large. i don't have blonde hair and bright blue eyes. i'm paler than winter, so when i'm hot or cold my skin turns red or purple, respectively. my fingers are hideous, short and fat; i think my pinky is a seven. that is, the one without the nub of a sixth finger attached to it. my arms are covered in disgusting red bumps, as are, to a lesser degree, my thighs and my ass (random fact: no one outside of my family has even seen my ass). at any given time i have at least five mysterious bruises on my legs. occasionally one of my toenails�second on my right foot�becomes fungusy, so the nail is brittle and chalky (at least it's normal now). i'd say my boobs are too big, but they fit the rest of my terrible self. they're not perfect and perky because they weigh about a pound and a half each. the right one is noticeably larger than the left. i have some stretch marks just above my belly button.
i wouldn't know flirting if it crawled up my ass and laid eggs because i've never experienced it.
let's not limit my suck-hood to my physical features alone. i'm perfectly content with sitting and doing nothing. apparently this is a problem, given my age. i'm supposed to want to get drunk at every opportunity and fuck a handful of people a month, never to see them again. fridays i'll watch angel at midnite. every saturday night i watch british comedies on pbs, maybe catch up on the yu-gi-oh and pok�mon episodes i taped that morning. i'll sit in the bath and read, or lie in bed and read. friday and saturday are my least favorite days of the week. they reinforce the fact i have no friends.
i carry around a small quaker chewy granola bar notebook wherein i record random thoughts and quotes:
"what did a t-rex use his arms for?"
"how much liquid can your lungs hold, and where does it go?"
"what, physiologically, is happening when you have dark circles under your eyes?"
"there's your answer, fishbulb."
"tuesdays are my ass-scratching days."
"i don't sleep. i reginerate."
"what religion are russians?"
"'chiropractic' as a noun?"
as much as i whip out my little notebook, you'd think i was a reporter.
i'm easily lost in reveries. i come up with cast systems in pine trees. i cry when i see any dead animal. i can't make decisions when other people are involved. i ignore a problem until it goes away or until a larger problem takes its place.
i'm judgemental. i make fun of everyone i see. i curse. a lot. i never have the right thing to say at the right time. i have a serious rage control problem. i'm offended when someone won't spill their guts to me completely. secrets break my heart. i hold grudges for all eternity. if you lie to me or make me cry, chances are i'll hate you forever.
most of the books i've read no one else has. i don't read the "new classics" or very many of the old ones for that matter. if you have read wuthering heights, cruddy, the perks of being a wallflower, diary of an underachiever, mysterious skin, and the collected works of edna st. vincent millay, then i'll have something to say.
physically i'm as low-maintenance as they come, but emotionally i'm not worth the effort. my feelings are easily hurt. i cry a lot. i still want to cut myself sometimes. if you yell at me, i'll be depressed for at least a week. if i'm left out of any group function, the down time could be twice as long. i'm very vengeful and make great efforts to emotionally hurt people if they piss me off. ever since i was a child, i've honed in on people's insecurities, stored them, then if needed cut them down. i think i have made people cry. if i don't get my way, sometimes, that rage issue will resurface. i was never disciplined as a child, so i'm not used to being told "no." i need to be constantly told i'm wonderful and awesome. i'm the most jealous person on the face of the planet. if i receive a compliment, nine times out of ten i'll deny it and call them crazy. i know that's rude.
i'm always in some sort of physical pain, and i complain about it constantly. i complain about a lot of things, the majority of which will never change. i hate that even though i will vote this november, it won't matter one bit. i hate that being gay is even an issue. i hate all men who think women are lesser people than them. i hate that i'm expected to fit into a size four. i hate that i get strange looks from certain people for having metal in my face and pink/red/purple hair. to quote myself, "i know nothing is going to change, and i have to accept this, but they're going to know i don't like it." (i got a clap from a supervisor for that.)
i'm a very intense person with a lot of passion in strange areas. i will talk about suicide. i will show you my scars. i was once told i was intimidating, that that was why people didn't like me. i guess i just want people to understand.
i may be a girl, but by no stretch of the imagination am i a lady. i don't cross my legs, ever, and i'm very dirty. i never wash my hands and can go up to a week without washing my hair. i can go months without shaving since i'm always [usually] in pants. if you talk to me about manicures, pedicures, make up, tanning, etc. there is a 97% chance i will vomit all over you. once i was introduced as, "this is chelsea. she likes random weird bugs." if i see a spider or a roach, i won't scream and find the nearest boy. i'll grab a boot and go in with a battle cry. if it's a roach, that is. if it's a spider, i just put them outside.
but then i hear things like, "Chelsea-kun, it's horrible and cliched and I apologize, but you're the light of my life. As I was telling Andrea and Sarah today, oftentimes I find myself wondering where I'd be without you. It suddenly dawned upon me, as it started to just pour outside, that I'd be dead. I've no doubts that without your love and understanding I'd have killed myself." and i just don't know what to think. at least i have one friend.
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