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"She's a nice girl but not much upstairs"
I beg to differ, and I'd like to clear something up. I s'pose one might get the impression that my skull is filled with JELLO or that I'm 3 eggs short of a picnic basket, but I beg to differ. It hurts me to think that people don't really know me very well, at all. Can't they see the pain behind that dorky blank expression of confusion? The sorrow deep within the flowing darkness that is my patheticly loud laughter? It seems to me that before we judge others, we must first realise our own short comings. To judge this book by its cover would be to dive blind down into a firey hole filled with rabid mutated snails....if you catch my drift. Things are not always as they seem. For those of you who have seen Shrek, I want you to remember that little onion simile and apply it also to me. I have layers too, descending gradully from the tough outer shell, the masculine facade, the goofy I-don't-care-what-I-look-like nature, through to the fragile center, with emotions, and a suprisingly effeminate inner-me. A scared little girl who just wants approval and a feeling of self worth. Recognition would be nice as well. Just because I have a few vocabularic (...) short-comings doesn't mean I have any short-comings of the brain.
I want to know why people just dismiss me as though I have no feelings, as though I were the peel of your banana which, having served its purpose, you throw into the street to inconvenience someone else. Have some heart alright? Someday I'm just going to go all homicidal from all the insults, put-downs and asides that I'm not supposed to find out about. Remember that what goes around comes around.
posted by
that girl at 1:59:00 p.m.
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