Earlier, after school, me and Na went shopping. I found a dress I actually liked, even though its pretty tight. And everyone I asked liked it to, or maybe the were lying.
I bought the dress and brought it home, I was so happy.
I played dress up. Doing a full face of makeup, putting my hair up, and putting on an outfit for the dress. I even put on heels.
I felt pretty, I cant lie, I felt pretty. And everyone I showed felt the same. They showered me in compliments, saying I looked good, pretty, hot. I've never been called hot before, I didnt know how to react. But I was grinning. I was happy. They could all have easily been lying.
I took a few pictures with my camera. Not only a few, a ton. I deleted them all exept 3. Those 3 are those types of pictures where if you just look at it once, quickly, you will think that person in the picture is pretty. But when you actually look at it, you realise she's just an ugly fucking whore.
Lipstick on a pig. You can dress up a pig, it is still a pig. You can put makeup on a pig, it's still and ugly pig. You can put lipstick on a pig, it is still a fat, ugly pig, waiting for the day it gets slaughtered.
She's the pig. She is me. I am the pig.
Im sitting here in my new dress, my makeup i used so much time on, my heels ive never actually worn.
I want time to freeze, so I can feel pretty forever. But I also want the opposite. I want to rip my new dress apart, claw my makeup off my face, break the heels.
I dont deserve any of it.
I dont deserve to feel good.
I want to cry. I want my makeup to get ruined. Smudged. Disintegrate in my tears.
Why do I want to cry? I was so happy a second ago.
YOU ARE READING
Diary Of A Teenage Girl
Non-FictionThis is just for fun / a way to document how my life is going without having to worry about anyone finding a diary I dont have a real diary so im Just doing this on here. I dont write in here every day, and chapters are short most of the time. Just...
