Holy FML.

Recently I just feel like nothing's good enough. I'm not pretty
enough, thin enough, happy enough, calm enough, curvy enough, likeable
enough... Even girly enough. I don't know what's happening. I'm
stressed out, I wanna cut, and I'm choleric. And everyone chalks it up
to the fact that I'm just fickle. I'm just Michka. The one who makes a
big deal of everything. But no one realizes how scary this all is. My
world is going belly-up, and I see nothing I can do to make it right.
It's as if I have no control over my life. No control over my
feelings. No control over anything, and it worries me. I'm terrified
of the me I don't know. I think she's out to get me.

--
Love Me. Hate Me. Read All About Me.
http://imnotasuper-model.blogspot.com/

My Life is Just One Big Burrito

They sat there as I wept,
Obviously seeing why I was crying,
But ultimately not knowing why.
My burrito had reached maximum capacity
And was now falling to pieces.
What had been a small tear in its tortilla
Had grown into something as wide as the night sky.
They sat there in silence not understanding
That as I looked into that busted burrito,
I saw my life.


(True Story... Damn those Chipotle people)

IDK

You make me wanna die.
I'll never be good enough.
-The Pretty Reckless

Why must things be constantly picked at? Why can't you take my apology
at face value? Why can't you see that I really am, and that every word
after that makes me hate myself even more? I'm so broken that I can't
think. You ask me to give you a reason for my feelings. I cannot. I
will not lie to myself. There is no reason behind emotion. I get that
I'm wrong. I will change. But I'll never be good enough.

I am a mess. I'm frustrated and exhausted, and I'm sorry. For
everything. I'm not trying to make you drop anything. So please keep
telling me all the billion things I do wrong. Seriously. At some point
I've gotta learn to accept it.

--
Love Me. Hate Me. Read All About Me.
http://imnotasuper-model.blogspot.com/

Lo Siento Mis Amores

So I've been pretty snotty to everyone recently, and so I figured I
should apologize. I have reasons... But they're beginning to sound
more like excuses. Why should I subject you to my excuses? Why should
you care? But since no one reads this I suppose it doesn't matter very
much. Here goes:

I can feel it all slipping away... Everything I've worked so hard for.
I've been working so hard on being happy for everyone. But now more
than ever I'm so tired that I don't have the capacity to work at
contentment. I'm exhausted. Physically and mentally. I've come to this
place where I can't think without wanting to cry, and I can't breathe
without wanting to die. I don't know exactly what I'm feeling. No one
can help me because I'm just too stupid to put it into words. And how
dare I burden everyone else? Nothing left to do but hold my head and
bawl.

--
Love Me. Hate Me. Read All About Me.
http://imnotasuper-model.blogspot.com/

Can You See This

I haven't blogged in a while because I haven't a computer anymore and
I haven't figured out how to do it from my phone but I'm thinking this
might be it? So... Can you see this?

--
Love Me. Hate Me. Read All About Me.
http://imnotasuper-model.blogspot.com/

--
Love Me. Hate Me. Read All About Me.
http://imnotasuper-model.blogspot.com/

Ugh.

There's a difference between being mad and being pissed, and right now I'm pissed... Let me attempt to explain. I'm not just simply upset. I'm fuming! And it's not at very rational. One thing I know for sure is that I hate this feeling. It's why I don't like relationships very much. It bugs me that I love this person enough to care that they infuriate me so... But really everyone knows that I am the queen of Michka-ville. I don't like when people give me tones. I don't like when people are short with me. Respect me enough to act as an adult is all I ask. Maybe I'm overreacting, but I can't remember the last time I got so mad at someone that wasn't Helena, Ashleigh, or a family member. You know what, universe? I don't appreciate this. Stop fucking with me!

Confusion

I look in the miror, and what I do see?
A disgusting creature standing before me.
A girl too mediocre.
Not a traffic stopper,
Yet not completely ugly.
Not the biggest fatty,
But not at all thin.
And most of all, a child confused within.

I look in the mirror, and what do I see?
A mass of confusion standing before me.
No one completely understands her.
Though they try to decode her.
And I feel her pain,
I know that every day for her is a strain.
Tired of explaining,
Out of voice for complaining.

I look in the mirror and what do I see?
I see me.

What do you do
When your worst nightmare becomes you?

You raise your eyes to the heavens and bawl.
Hell hath no fury as an in internal brawl.