sometimes, i want people not to say what they think about me. i don't care if they approve of my hair color or what i drive. i don't want their opinion, nor did i ask their opinion. i don't want to talk about how i got here or why i made this choice instead of that choice. i don't want to hear crappy, crap, crap, crap. My crap-o-meter is busted. it can't fit another ounce in it. Not a drop.
why is it people feel the need to throw up on you with their words? do people realize the looks they give your outfits? do they realize your outfits don't care what they think?
do you ever feel like cinderella? every day i hear those mice singing, cinderelli, cinderelli...into my ears and i want to laugh. other days, i want to cry. cinderella worked too hard for too long. but in the end she got her prince, and so have i. so, shouldn't i just be able to be pretty, and happy and go to balls and dance? why do people see me happy and then try to remind me that I was once scrubbing the floors of a life that drained me?
why don't disney movies show the other side of the happy ending. you know the one where women get nasty and jealous and cat like after you wear the glass slippers. you know, the side where cinderella's shoe comes flying off her foot, the glass cuts her toe as she flies down the concrete steps? all the little birdies fly around her head, like in all cartoons and for a minute, she is stunned. but then reality hits when she hears the laughter of her step-sisters and feels the a wet sensation(step- sister spit) hit her cheek?
sometimes, i just need to vent.
thank you, blogland. I'll be here all week.