You're right, actually. I am pretty. I'm, I'm pretty troubled. And I'm,
I'm, pretty confused. And I'm, I'm afraid. Really, really afraid. ♥
I'm not confident. I know I'm smart, but not in the ways that count.
I read people much better than I've ever read books. I can never find
words to express my feelings. I'm only as funny as I feel. And no, I
absolutly do not think that I'm pretty. I sometimes walk with my head
down. My posture is terrible. I think horrible thoughts, and I let
people get the best of me. I'm really not as nice as I would like to
be, or as innocent as you think I am. I am a condradiction to
everything I want stand for. I'm a big dreamer with little
motivation. I am really no good at all, on my own. And I am analytical
with myself. And I don't understand how anyone could ever be so
cocky or proud when they are aware of all the disgusting things that
they think or do, but no one knows.
But I'm broken enough to be humble.