for the record
(can I say things like this?)
I don't want sympathy. "Shake it off, sweetie" doesn't help—I've done that; it's fine. If you pat me on the head I feel like I asked for it (which means: I'm ashamed), which means you missed the point. I just want to know that people know these things.
a comment left on my MySpace profile (left, not by some random dude, but by a nice guy I knew in college who I've been corresponding with absently):
"yeah, we get it. you're drop-dead gorgeous. give yourself a trophy and move on."
I don't want sympathy. "Shake it off, sweetie" doesn't help—I've done that; it's fine. If you pat me on the head I feel like I asked for it (which means: I'm ashamed), which means you missed the point. I just want to know that people know these things.
a comment left on my MySpace profile (left, not by some random dude, but by a nice guy I knew in college who I've been corresponding with absently):
"yeah, we get it. you're drop-dead gorgeous. give yourself a trophy and move on."
1 Comments:
Meh! That's what MySpace is for; hundreds of photos of yourself doing that pouty face you pull in the mirror when no-one is looking.
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