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sometimes im a hopeless romantic. if he doesnt like this birthday gift, then shoot, i’ll date me. whatever.

Ericka Anne Photography

Figured I’d give this a bit of a shot. Anyone care to check it out? :)

"I love your shining blue eyes."

"Maybe I wasn’t meant to leave."

"I want to stay with you."

try to explain what a graham cracker is, then start arguing about what bacon is better - english or american - then somehow end up having the most intense sex of your life. yep. that’s what it’s all about. 

popped my headboard off my bed and ripped a pillowcase with my teeth. okay. well. good night.

moving to another country that you’ve always wanted to be a part of is like being kidnapped by your dreams. suddenly when you’re ready to leave it’s like stockholm syndrome and it physically hurts you to get up and go.

so i’ve been scrubbing my face with lemon sugar for the past few days. the most mother effin stubborn blackheads are gone and my face is as smooth as a baby’s butt. i know. i did a test. also 100% of my roommates agree after touching my face as well. so yes. good things. nice things. soft things. like a beluga whale.

i can’t stop touching my face. i feel like dan when he got his legs waxed.

hi louise.

i have been awake for several hours now. i havent opened my curtains. i havent turned on the light. i havent even gotten out of bed. i sat up with my back against the wall and thoughts racing out of control and now all i want to do is cry because im trying so hard to keep making excuses for everyone else. i keep trying to justify why people in my life suck and why i cant be happy for more than a little while. i cant take this anymore. i need out. i need someone who genuinely wants to sit next to me and hug me while i cry because they actually care, not just because they want something from me. im tired of being used. im tired of making excuses for these people. i just want to live my life for me and no one else. im done trying to please other people - it fucking hurts when you don’t get the same respect back.

one of my local london friends just called my new style very Audrey Hepburn and i think i’m gonna cry because that is the greatest compliment ever especially for a girl like me because i live in jeans and sneakers and omg wow

Body Image; Fuck Society.

I don’t post serious or lengthy text things anymore. I don’t think I ever did. But now, I kind of need to. It is 5:42am. I have been awake since 10am. I am sitting here thinking and stressing and crying and it’s not fair. Why? Because it’s all about me.

Insomnia has taken over my life. I don’t sleep. I don’t want to sleep. I can’t sleep. And so I think instead. Tonight, I may have gone a little too far.

So…I’m kind of a dork. I’m 21. I’m 5’3”, a size 6 (sometimes 8), I’m not very pretty, and my hair is so short that I look like a boy from behind sometimes. So no, I’m not like the girls you see and like and retweet and reblog on the fucking internet. WHO GIVES A SHIT? 

Tonight, I did apparently.

I made the mistake of comparing myself to other people. Other women my age. Tall. Skinny. Gorgeous. Blonde. Society’s description of perfect and beautiful and everything that anyone every wants in life. So basically everything that I am not. And holy shit did that hurt.

Occasionally it happens, I’ll say “yeah, I need to lose a few pounds,” or something, but this time it involved someone else. He didn’t say or do anything to me, so don’t worry. It’s just that I started thinking "Why me? He could do so much better than this…whatever this is. There’s way more than me out there." I began to panic about myself because there is another person in the picture. Someone who likes me for some reason, and in comparing myself I couldn’t figure it out.

Suddenly I was not okay with the amount of emotional shrapnel I was trying to pick out of my skin. Whatever kick-ass amount of self esteem I had after this amazing week was suddenly splattered across my room and mixed in with my words. “How can I be good enough for anyone else if I’m not good enough for myself?”

So. Much. Bullshit.

(Okay, the question was semi-right, but I shouldn’t have been asking it.)

I very rarely have these moments. I never need to see how I measure up to other people or what they think of me. I am the only one of me in the world, and there are going to be people who like it right alongside those who can’t stand it. I grew up being true to myself and everything I’ve ever wanted to be, but through the years I’ve been damaged enough by false claims of love and beauty and praise that all I want to do is please others and hope to god they don’t turn on me like the people in my past. I want to make sure they stay true to their word and I don’t find that dreaded “better” hiding under the sheets.

I’ve spent the last 5 hours just telling myself that in comparison to everyone else, I’m fucking average at best. I’m short. Awkward. Not very skinny. And I sure as hell am not pretty. I just..am…if that makes sense. I couldn’t help but think that I needed to lose weight again or change things about myself to feel better about what I look like and what other people see in me. I’ve cried out of frustration thinking that it’s not fair that everyone else is prettier, taller, skinnier, liked more, and just overall better than me.

But I can’t do that. Why? Because that’s not fucking me.

I never needed anyone else’s approval. I don’t need fucking tumblr or facebook or whateverthefuck to tell me what’s pretty and what isn’t. If I’m happy, I’m fucking happy. It’s genetic, I’m gonna be short. I’m also going to look half my age for the rest of my life. I’m also not going to be very skinny either. It’s in my genes. The smallest I’ve ever been was a size 2 and that was a miracle in itself during high school. And so what if I don’t look like a fucking barbie with a perfect smile and beautiful long blond hair? That’s just not me and fuck anyone else who says otherwise.

I don’t need to make anyone but myself happy with my appearance. If someone out there likes me for all this, then goddammit, something must be going right. And just because society says I should look like some photoshopped magazine shot, doesn’t mean I actually have to. Who the fuck has time to photoshop themselves in real life? I like to eat. I exercise when I should. I can’t change my genetics and I’m not going to try to crop and airbrush myself. I’m happy and I’m not perfect. 

This is me. I’m 21 years old. I am 5’3”. I am a size 6. I’m never going to be the ideal “skinny,” and yeah I’m a little chubby around the edges. My hair is super short and I never take my black nose ring out. I can’t even pretend to be able to see without my glasses and I don’t wear contacts. I have two fake teeth because of a hereditary issue, and I have a vitamin D deficiency. I’m not textbook pretty, but I’m okay. My friends love me because I am “funny, sweet, smart, caring, and have an amazing personality.” I am loved for who I am, even though I don’t always see it. 

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I look happy most of the time, but that’s not always the case. Sometimes I forget what’s important in this world, and I know that some of the people reading this might, too. And when I forget, I begin to cry.

Tonight I got hit with that feeling that there is someone better than me out there - that everyone is better than me; that I shouldn’t be someone’s first choice or a choice at all. And during all my ranting and venting and crying to my friends back home, one said something that I never would have ever expected out of him. He told me that "there is always going to be better than anyone, but he found something in you that he hasn’t in anyone else."

If there’s one thing I can pull from this horrific case of insomnia and my crying tonight, it’s that none of it should have happened in the first place - and anyone who might need it should know that too.

There is no standard definition of beauty. What is beautiful to one may not be to another, but what does matter is that you yourself feel beautiful just by being true. It’s not about what other people think of you. It doesn’t matter if you’re the first, second, or last choice. It doesn’t have to be about impressing others and trying to be something you’re not. It’s about both being yourself, and being happy with yourself. Others will definitely see it in you, and good god does that trump every other type of beauty out there. Looks aren’t everything, let me tell you. Just so long as you’re happy - fuck the other people. Fuck society.

so in my european foreign policy course today, there was an entire section on policy sharing and it was word for word “top-down, bottom-up, and sideways”

its 2:15am. im sleep deprived. i hear people. doing things. but it’s louder in my room. in my mind. i just want sleep. silence on the inside would be pretty cool.

your scent drives me crazy and i love it. i get butterflies and knots in my stomach. i don’t understand how i could snuggle up to you through the night. because being wrapped in this blanket that has a faint trace of your scent is making my heart race and my head say i miss you. this bed is empty right now. it’s…not supposed to feel like this.

I’M not supposed to feel like this.