I ask myself, WWBD?
What would Beyonce do?
I wish I was a fabulous gay guy working for a fashion magazine…
So I decided to shut myself away from my friends. I decided that I shouldn’t hang out with anyone anymore. Maybe it’ll help in the long run. I even stopped texting people. With the only exception being someone invites me out first. And that resulted in me being alone more often. But that’s not what’s affecting my mood. Well.. That’s arguable. When I’m alone, I get thinking. I get paranoid. I think of how I’m being used. I think about a whole lot of shit that troubles me. And there’s no solution to it. At all. I wouldn’t think it would be a big deal. I thought I can get used to the idea of someone using me. How if it wasn’t real for them, it’d be real for me. And I’d be okay with it. I hate how my conscience gets in the way of my thinking process. I think about how I’m going to be fucking alone for the next two years because all my friends are better than me. It’s a sad realization that you’re the one that drags them down and not the other way around. It’s depressing to realize that I need them and they don’t need me. I hate how I’ll always be a fuck up by default because of my sexual preference. I hate that no matter what I become in life, I’d be their “gay” son. Not just son. I hate that I’m not doing anything to help the situation. I hate how I feel like I have to work twice as hard for their approval because I happen to like men. And most of all, I hate crushing on a straight guy. I fucking hate myself for letting that happen. I hate myself for being a romantic and thinking that love is transcendental and can make anything possible. I hate that I already lost a race that never existed. I hate how I melt so easily when I’m around you. I hate that I’m always in the back of your mind. And unfortunately, it’s supposed to be like that. I hate myself. I hate my body. I hate my skin. My hair. I hate my nasty habits. I hate waking up in the morning and finding myself in a shitty mood. I hate that I can’t do anything about that shitty mood. I hate how I play scenarios in my head claiming I’ll be happy in the future. When realistically, life will be shit. I hate doing all these fucking things thinking it would help. I really do.. Think I can help myself. I put so much hope into it only to find myself in the same mood, if not worse. I hate how I don’t try any more. I hate how I let myself crack and actually decided to write about it. I hate not getting into any of the universities I want to get into. I hate how all my friends are off aiming to do great things and I’m off living in my kiddy world. I hate how I can’t find the time to dress well anymore. I hate how I can’t even find a place to dress well to. And that’s life. And it’s going to stay like this for a while. Because..
No one will understand how “Born This Way” makes me feel.