I Don't Believe In Love

I don't believe in love.

I believe in greater and lesser levels of dislike.

I think when people say, "I love you", they really mean, "I dislike you less than anyone else!"

Does that make me cynical? No, realistic.

I do believe in love, I am just scared that I won't ever feel it.

If I never feel love, I think that it will be entirely and 100 percent my own fault.

Why?

I use sarcasm and meanness to cover up how vulnerable I am.

What's worse? No one sees through my shit.

I just want someone to shake me and scream, "I don't believe that you don't cry and don't feel, cry, damn it!!"

Because once that happens the dam in my heart will shatter and I can cry 25 years of tears that were never spilled.

So my biggest fear-no one will see through me and break me.

I Wish I Was Infertile

Sometimes I wish I was infertile.

Is that weird?

It would give me an excuse to not have children.

I hate children.

Their hands are always sticky, and they cling on to adults like little leeches.

Their needy, and they constantly want and want and want.

They suck the life out of whomever they belong to.

And why do people constantly say, "I can't wait to be pregnant"? Pregnancy is the worst part.
1. You get Fat
2. Your skin loses elasticity
3. Your vagina loses elasticity
4. You swell and get constipated

Ooooo, sounds like oodles of fun.

And people change when they have kids, and not for the better. They become boring, distant, unaware of their surroundings.

The let the kid take over their life so that you can't have a conversation with them without them checking their watch or calling someone to check on the baby.

I love my nieces and nephews, but ever since my sister had them, she's become this other person, someone I don't recognize. Whenever I call her to talk, all I hear in the background is shrieking and she's constantly turning around to shout something at them.

"Don't climb onto the counters!" "Don't stick your head between the banisters!" "Share with your brother!"

And my brother's wife just had a baby that is ugly.

Of course I can't tell them that people cannot be realistic and take criticism.

But please, don't coo at me, "Isn't she beautiful?"

No. She has baby acne, her hair is falling out, and her eyes are too close together. She is ugly. And she will probably stay ugly.

And that is why sometimes I wish I was infertile, because it would give me an excuse not to subject myself and those around me to the horrors of babies.

Imagine My Own Tragedies

Sometimes I wish something horribly tragic happened in my childhood so that I'd have an excuse to feel this way.

You know what I mean.

Well paying job in a sucky job market, nice apartment, extra spending money, and yet there's a hole.

I feel like throughout my entire life (albeit that's only 24 years) I have been waiting for something, someone to shake me out of it.

No one's here yet.

Sometimes I pretend that I am a surviving rape victim, wounded both emotionally and physically by some jarring and violent crime.

I rent maudlin movies with scenes created just to make the audience cry, all so that I have an excuse to sob. I don't sob for the characters in the movie, I sob for myself in the theater, I spill tears, haunted by memories of the happy person that I used to be.

I don't think I'm depressed, I think I'm realistic.

I have no tragedy. My empty sadness is my tragedy.

What My Boss Doesn't Know....

I hate my boss. This is no grand proclamation, most people hate their bosses.

But my boss thinks we’re friends. We are not.

I secretly pray each and every morning that he gets hit by a bus on his way to work. I’m only half joking, I’m mostly serious.

He follows my work on our computer network and cleans it up, not his job. He peers over my shoulder, trying look at my monitor, prying into my life.

He pushes his religion on me and mocks my ethnicity.

I hate him. I want to quit but the money is good.

When is the line crossed between I hate, and I loathe, I despise, I ooze anger? I’m about a mile past wherever that line is.

And of course, he’s obese. Not chubby or fat, but obese.
He eats French fries with every meal.

Whenever he shoves fistful of French fries into his mouth, I pray that he chokes.

His mouth makes noises as he eats.

Suck, chew, swallow, smack lips. Suck, chew, swallow, smack lips.

He slurps his coffee and makes yummy noises with each slurp.

Shlluuurrrp, mmmmmmmm.

I have to hold myself back from punching him in the mouth and screaming, slurp on this!

Another Day

Fat people bother me.

I can't help it, maybe it's because I used to be fat, maybe not, but they bother me. When I was fat, I bothered me.

And now, I can't stand their sight. When my friend Robert shoves a brownie in his mouth without pausing to taste it, I want to strangle him.

But do you want to know what's worse? I want to be him.

I want to eat with that kind of reckless abandon and relish every bite. I want to not worry about calories, carbs, or trans fats.

I've even considered taking up smoking even though I have asthma just to stay thin.

When I wake up and my tummy is flat and my rounded hip bones peek out on the sides, I giggle in glee.

And the sad thing is that the more I lose weight, the more people say "Oh my god, you're so thin, you're like a model," which in turn makes me think that if I become healthy and fain good weight then I won't be beautiful anymore.

I'm scared I have a colon illness (ulcerative colitis) but I don't want to see a doctor and get treated because treatment will make me gain weight (weight that I need to gain).

But above all I like the attention. I like when people pinch me and can't find the fat, or when I turn down free food, or I try on clothes.

There's something wrong with me, isn't there?

First Blog...Here Anyways

So I started this blog because I live a life of lies that no one knows about, not my sister, not my mother, not even my best friend. But I feel that I need a spiritual cleansing, somewhere to place confessions of my weekly lies, daily lies, hourly lies.

An early memory of my first big lie is when I was 8-years old. I went to school and told everyone that I was my identical twin, Sarah, and that my sister and I had switched places for a day.

Another big lie in my life--I think about my weight non-stop. It never ends, I'm a size two, I've been a size two for the past two years, and yet my biggest fear is getting fat. Not getting cancer, not my dog dying, not even getting diabetes or some other disease. Just getting fat. Thoughts of my weight plague me with every bite of food, every sip of water, and I can't seem to stop.

I also lie to friends so that I don't have to go out. As a teen I would lie and say I was grounded, and by the time I was 18 all of my friends thought that I had horrible, strict parents.

I also hate my job. In college I rebelled against my parents and decided not to do pharmacy even though that's what I love. Now I am stuck in a horrible job, pretending to love what I do to defend my college rebellion.

That's all for now, but my lies are daily so stay tuned.