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and then you're someone you are not...

so, no more beau for winnie.

the most disturbing part of this disaster is that....
someone I didn't realllllllllly know made me feel worthless (again.)

and when I say worthless, I mean it.

I wasn't worth more than a fuck, a blowjob, or anything else that would've happened if I ended up hanging out with that low-class loser.

Wait, before you run to my defense, I know that I shouldn't define my worth by what beau or any of the other losers from my past think my worth is. I get it, and I've already got oprah ready on hulu so I can gain some more of that female empowerment that is rubbed away with each failed attempt at relationship-happiness.

trust me, I fucking get it.

But, I just want to know why this had to happen?
why do I fall for the wrong guy, or re-create "the right guy" out of the wrong guy, every single time.

It's like when i meet a guy, or when one happens to fall into my life, i, all of a sudden, become a director to this great romantic film, and i shout to my crew, "LIGHTS, CAMERA, ACTION'
I play out these wonderful senarios, and paint flowers around dead bushes to make the world I live in (that strange world that only exists when i'm starry-eyed) even more beautiful than the last time I fell for someone who turned out to be less-than-perfect.

what the fuck is wrong with me?

it's sad to think that "growing up" consists of losing the utopia of that hollywood overly-romanticized love affair filled with violins and soft lighting. because, as proven so many many many many many times, the imagination of what love or lovey-dovey-ness can be is so spectacular in comparison to "do you wanna oof because i think we should."

i've lost all energy from this beau thing--and it's not because the beau thing didn't work out (lie...but it's not 100% centered around it)

I've lost energy because I literally just built up enough strength to finally block that whimpy-dick frank from my e-mail list; and I no longer write about david.

I finally crossed that bridge that took me 6 years to discover, and now, when I think I may've found someone who would be remotely cool to "get to know" better....

I'm fucking treated like a prostitute.

and ya, I'm sure my ipod is right, everytime I ask why, "you don't know what love is" pops up. B I N G O, you're right p-pod, I don't know what love is. and at this rate, I don't think i'm interested in finding out anymore, because I have a track record of only being attracted to low-lives, losers, best, homosexuals.

I have YET to find a man. a real MAN for me.


on the plus side of this overly melodramatic blog, I bought 2 new lip-gloss colors and they are SO cute. :)


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