Don't get over whelm from reading my profile; it's just an fucking expression of my thoughts!

I’m not a fucking beauty queen. When I walk into the bathroom, I’m not getting pretty.. I’m destroying myself. Repairing myself from the damage I’ve done. Whether YOU like it or NOT. The ceiling of fear crashes down on me when I pick up the latest fashion magazine and find that no one else looks like me.

The appearance of my own body is cut and dissected every time I breathe. My horror of beauty is not when I’m laying naked on the bathroom floor, but when I’m staring at myself, wondering what’s underneath the painted-on feelings and made-up eyes.

But what is ME? Where has the word "real" gone to? I think it’s being afraid of nothing and truly LOVING yourself without BEING someone else. The vanity sanctuary will keep me safe and you can try to break me down but you’re only hurting yourself, just like you’re supposed to be doing.

People need to hate me because they hate themselves. They want to believe the rumors about me because they don't have their own rumors. I'm here to stay, with my diamond rims and clear pink lipgloss, so get used to it and worry about yourself before you try and be negative towards me.

I'm a getaway car for real feelings.Smile, with your gasoline teeth and forced empathy. Let me be the one thing that makes your heart break because you can't help it. You need someone like me to make you feel wrong.

Who knows i tried to find a way to run away. I think they found another cure for broken hearts and feeling insecure, You'd be surprised what I endure; what makes you feel so self-assured? I need to find a place to hide, you never know what could be, waiting outside; the accidents that you could find. It's like some kind of suicide. So what ails you is what impales you, I feel like i've been crucified to be satisfied. I'm a victim of my symptom, I am my own worst enemy, You're a victim of your symptom, You are your own worst enemy, Know your enemy. I'm elated, medicated. I am my own worst enemy.

(For Scene boys):

You didn't buy those clothes at a fucking thrift shop. Your idea of vintage is a boy scout shirt complete with badges you never earned nor even understand the symbols of on fucking sale for any fucking price cause the halfbuck is so much less when you don't care where your mommy and daddy's credit card is used. Fucking ugly scene poser!

I’ll be dying in my makeup and you’ll be dying without it. Did you have a point? Because somewhere in your own special ugliness you lost meaning and I forgot what you said. So center the text and write some more, it’s all mine..

My diamond fingernails sparkle like a Pual Walls/Brook grill and you'll have to wear sunglasses if you wanna come near this priceless whore!