i always thought, that being pretty was always too much work. i was always kinda secretly happy i was never cookie cutter pretty. i was always that ugly one with the really big fucked up smile but i smiled pretty lol. being ugly kinda makes you have to look reallllllly deep for a pretty feature about yourself. then you end up appreciating yourself even more. for example, i'm a big fan of my own breasts. though not large, they indeed are pretty :)i won't put a picture of them up here, but my face, i always found ugly. which makes it super dope in my eyes. like, what the fuck is pretty? other girls can have fun with THAT shit. ugly is IN now a days. like, where the fuck ARE you guys?

my hair looks like the surroundings of a sheep's fassssssy holeee. it's fucking dope though. sheep are dumb motherfuckers anyway. whats the use of them. the clothes their hair makes is itchy as fuck. Jesus may have had an afro. doesn't the Bible say some shit like that? i wonder if he had a dope ass pick? hmmmm. well, thanks asses of sheep. for allowing my hair to jock your swag. we MAJOR. Major Lazer. Pon De Floor type shit. dedehdididididdedoooo. unexplainable, but you dancing anyways, right? yeah, that's how my afro does shit. my afro. says FTW.

you look like that man i kissed gently on the fingertips of my grandmother. you seem delicate & make me more comfortable in awkward moments. i wish words would have been exchanged. instead of an awkward 'its ok.' i wish i could tell you exactly whats on my mind. you look like the secret i've told someone, the only person that i've told this fact that i'm no longer friends with. you hope i can swallow your words. i wish my esophagus was able to handle hers. i miss her. i've heard you speak. you're beautiful when you speak. you're beautiful. you're beautiful. i think i would allow myself to fall in love with you. maybe. i want to kiss each individual nerve ending on your lips to let them know that they're special. to tell them thank you for making my heart full. yes, i'm a psycho. yes, i have memorized one of your works. yes, i'm in love with your voice. yes, i'm just a Staten Island girl that HATES words. but they're not so bad when you speak.

rantttttt.

i am not a poet. i am not a poet & i do not write poetry. i hate words. i hate words just like you may hate me. i hate words. my nail polish is a reddish pink. reddish pink, oh yeah reddish pink like that unhealthy vagina you learn about in health class. i'm glad my vagina doesn't look like my nail polish. i hate words. i hate random shit like this i hate words. i hate poetry. i hate it because i dream about it & it never talks back i hate poetry. i'm wearing a plaid mans shirt. i hate femininity. fuck you God for making my body the epitome of femininity. don't fuck you God because you get virgins pregnant. God you're delicious. yes, fuck you God. i am not a woman. because my vagina its misbehaved & will capture any private it likes. its powerful, i listen. she's a kinky bitch. she'd yell at me if i didnt give her what she wanted, i'm not a woman. a braid fell out. ugh a braid fell out because my afro is too short for this weave. i dream of big Jackson 5 afros. i do not dream. fuck dreams. vivid imaginations are dope though. i'm a 5'7 172 pound house filled of it. yes, that poem sucked. i'm well aware. fuck poems. fuck words. i'm not a poet, or a woman, and i have a healthy vagina. yah.

SOOOO, i'm here. In my Cognitive Psychology class pretending I give a fuck about what this guy is talking about. In my daydreams I see a whole bunch of shit. Right now me & Thelonious Monk are playing Numbers on top of a piano, I'm still dreaming about being the crease in that guys elbow, [I'll be over that fantasy soon enough] & i'm thinking about 2009. That year, I thought there would be a major change because I was graduating HS, going into college, etc, etc. But it really wasn't. I met a dude that ended up HATING & wasting my time with. I smoked weed for the first time & drunk myself into oblivion on many occassions. I also did a lot of things i ended up regretting. However, I did something I thought I would regret and I really did not. Which was shocking, because I beat myself up over everything. Right now, I still feel awkward and certain things in my life I think are changing me for the less open, & i HATE IT. but I still remember that one thing. And i don't feel bad, or feel that i SHOULD feel bad. I'm so awkward, it's painful. & i'm starting to miss people. which is bothersome because i hate people. Hating to miss people is soo much worse than my hatred of people in general. Oh well, I guess I should get back to pretending to pay attention. Even though I'm daydreaming of molesting a chick with a huge afro & large knockers. [mind you, i'm straight] much love. later on i'll tell you how the Wernicke's Area helped me write this pointless ass blog.