|
Lilith in Eden
I hate smug Doctor Who fans who say I shouldn’t bother watching if I dont start with the 1st Doctor.
Excuse the fuck out of me, but if you haven’t noticed there are about 800 episodes. I would love to spend all my time to watching ~800 episodes and become a megafan, but that means cutting out time to watch other shows, movies, and put down all the books I’m reading. It would take forever before I catch up with everyone in the fandom. And by the time I do there would be another Doctor Who, probably younger and more handsome than the last. You enjoy your infinite Doctor Who knowledge while I start from Nine like nearly everyone else. I’ve reached the point where I have to masturbate to go to sleep. And even that doesn’t help. Fucking insomnia. I don’t know what feels better: Sex or being an insomniac and finally getting some rest after over a month of sleepless nights and waking up even more tired.
Sometimes I feel like going to church on Sundays because there is nothing to do in the morning and I need to kill a few hours.
In Hell all the paintings are always slightly tilted and you can never straighten it. My sex life is like eating at a restaurant. I like everything but nothing agrees with me. Sharing Myself
When I was a freshman in high school I hated my appearance. I had acne. I wore glasses. I had messy, curly hair that couldn’t be tamed. I didn’t have makeup and pretty jewelry like all the other girls. I looked sick from the anorexia. Like, pale in the wrong way. I didn’t go shopping every week like other girls, so I was stuck being a medium wearing XL clothes that hung off me. I was awkward around people because I had only had maybe three friends before high school, but even then I only saw them during school. I was emo. The only one in the school. I thought a school for artists would be more accepting, but it was really hard for me. I sat alone alot. No one ever came up to me for conversation. I always had to start them. Because of me sitting on a guy’s lap rumors spread about me being a slut even though I was a virgin. Never even saw a penis except on pop-ups online. I hated myself. Then one day during breakfast I was sitting alone and my history teacher came up to me. He told me I was beautiful. He said I had deep eyes and beautiful high cheek bones. He said I had gorgeous lips other girls would kill for and that I needed to see that. I thought he was just being a creeper. So I shrugged it off. And it wasn’t until now, 5 in the morning almost 6 years later that I realize no one ever complimented me like that (or at all) until he did. I went 15 years before someone didn’t call me fat, or ugly, or flat chested, or raggedy, or all those other hurtful things. And he was right. I do have deep eyes. They hold so much emotion. People tell me they’re drawn to my eyes. I do have high cheek bones. I got offered a modeling position because of my cheeks and those full lips he complimented me on. I got really good at makeup. I was able to afford new clothes (some from stealing, my hoarding grandmother and hand-me-downs). I have alot more friends and some social skills. My acne is more under control. My glasses suit me. I gained some weight back so I have some damn hips and thighs. I keep my hair tamed. I was accepted by alot of people for my looks. And I had sex. Lots of it. Lots. Still…all those years took a toll on me. I can say all those things but I don’t feel like I look good enough. Maybe to them, but not to myself. Just need a few more pounds off my body, no more fucking acne, and some more piercings. I’m thinking tongue, nose, and nape. Dear Tumblr,
Me: Im gonna have so much fun this weekend! Me: *masturbates 4 times in a row and passes out* |
