Life is never a bed of roses
Wednesday, January 8, 2014 ★ 11:39 PM │
Just when you think you are finally happy, and you feel almost perfect. You trip on a small piece of rock, and land butt-first on the bed of
thorny, or even
bruised roses. It hurts only a little at first. But as you remain there, you start sinking further into the sharp thorns. Further injuring yourself, getting all hurt.
It's just like how someone makes you feel so upset, and though after pondering about it later on (probably an hour later), you start wondering: Why did I make a mountain out of a molehill? And you start thinking "silly me", "what a stupid thing to do". You're just too sensitive, just like me, ((...must be Aunty Flo visiting me...)). I cried twice today. And there was a one and a half hour interval between that tearing session. I had
it today, hence why I am more sensitive to usual comments that now someone seem to ick me, annoy me, frustrate me. Mood swings. Enough about that, I guess I should let matters rest.
"She is a crybaby, such a crybaby."
That is me alright, I have cried so much. From simple comments my relatives make about my thighs, or stomach, or hips, or butt; to ones about how I am immature, not acting my age, not being the responsible person I should be at this age, or how I am taking things to heart too seriously.
I'm done for now. Just wanted to get things lifted off my chest. I have an LA paper tomorrow.
bye
With Love,
Al
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