Disdain shines through the facade. Put on a happy face; take everything with a grain of salt.
Distrusting of everyone around.
Shallow.
Conceited
Self-absorbed.
Untrustworthy . . .
Fun.
Enthusiastic.
Gorgeous.
Bitch.
Slut.
Dickhead.
Jerk.
Cunt.
Asshole.
Friend.
Enemy.
Cold.
Heartless.
Pure evil. (My favorite, i.e. 2 of my ex's swear I am; I had it tattooed.)
The list goes on and on.
With all the hearts I've broken, it seems as though it is only my karma to be the one who is brokenhearted.
I deserve to feel the pain I've caused, never realizing that I created this much hurt.
What is wrong with me?
Why am I so undatable? Oh yeah, I'M A STRIPPER! Good Lord, it's the end of the fucking world.
I'm not a fucking whore. Ya know, there is a big difference between whores and strippers: strippers fuck you out of your money; whores fuck you for your money.
It's not my fault that I am beautiful and intelligent enough to know that I don't have to work too hard. And I'm lazy.
But I'm smokin' hot, great in bed and I suck dick like a fat girl auditioning for a porno. I have a great personality and an even better sense of humor.
My feelings go unreciprocated.
I give up; he teases me so
He knows I like it though . . .
Why can't I just give up?
I never had a chance, I know but . . .
My hope will never run out.
HEARTACHE
My heart hides in the shadows trying not to be broken.
My soul is twisted in knots.
Everything goes wrong no matter how hard I try.
Failure is all around; why does the worst always happen to me?
I try, I really do. Life is so unfair and so often not worth living.
I contemplate how sweet death sounds but I just keep hoping that one day my lady luck will turn around and come my way.
For I don't think I could handle yet another heartache.