i saw people doing this on deviant art. and since i can't draw for my life, i'll do it here.
SHOUT IT OUT.
i am ugly. and fat. it's a problem. and no matter how much people tell me i'm not, i still look in the mirror and hate everything i see.
i love to sing. choir is my passion and i might die without at LEAST four part harmony.
i love rainbows. they make my heart smile. along with llamas.
i'm paranoid. if you suddenly stop talking to me, i assume the worst.
i need to feel loved. otherwise i feel like a worthless sack of potatoes.
i still sleep with a pink security blanket which i call "he." He, my blanky, is also gay.
i love gay men.
i can get depressed easily. sometimes from myself.
i'm a people pleaser. i love to compliment and make others feel the way i can't. good about themselves.
i cry for stupid things.
i can only draw stereotypical stick figures
i write too much when i dont need to. then those days come where i need to vent and my paper remains blank
i resist the urges to say "I Love You."
i love hugs so ridiculously much
i need a life
i could crawl into a hole right now and cry and be happier that way.
depression is very much a physical thing for me. same with anxiety. they go hand in hand in my world and i hate it.
i'm scared at the moment
i will stay up late to please other people, even if i REALLY don't want to.
if you annoy me once, chances are you will be on the "annoying" list for all of eternity.
i'm usually a pretty good forgiver. depending on your offense.
i'm a hypocrite. and i hate that.
when i get anxiety attackes, theyre usually caused by other people. i shake, my heart races, and i have trouble breathing right. and during them? i usually get mondo depressed and reach out for help from a friend.
i depend on people
my past affected me hardcore into all i am today.
my mom can be my best friend of EVER EVER EVER but she thinks too highly of me.
other times, she hates me ALMOST as much as i hate myself. i have yet to have a steady week with her. but maybe that's just teenage life and hormones.
i have a very bad potty mouth.
and really? in person, i try VERY VERY hard to control it and sensor it.
when i'm writing?
good luck sensoring me.
can you tell my confidence is poop?
