#personal bullshit

I feel like I am in the middle of a raucous rodeo,

I am a matador, facing a heifer with murder in her eyes.

Her name is Life, and she has the gift of pain to bestow.

Pawing at the dirt, I know what this gesture implies.

I look to my left and see another bigger bull.

His name is Past, and he looks filled with impending rage.

Like I stole something near and dear from his soul.

He lets out a beastly steamy breath, that stinks of rampage.

I look to my right to see a third phantom-like beast,

Its name is Future and its ghostly eyes pierce into my core.

Phasing in and out of reality, I see a nightmarish dream wanting to feast.

They all want a savory taste of my pinkish gore.

I stand in the center of these three steers,

And my name is Present, with beasts ready to pulverize.

Each ox showing me three different kinds of fears.

Here comes the stampede, with nowhere to go, I face my demise.

They’re not a couple, they’re just very good friends

But... the older I get, the worse it becomes. (My self-hatred, especially regarding my looks.)

It affects my self-shipping as well.

Part of me thinks that there's a chance that Swing (or Lilia) would fall in love with me, simply because of my understanding, compassionate, and caring nature. Because I wouldn't judge or lecture him, wouldn't expect him to follow human morals and nonsensical societal rules, etc. I would accept and love him for who he is. Wholeheartedly and unconditionally.

But then, the voice comes. The one that whispers, "He wouldn't spare you a glance. Who would desire such a disgusting woman? Can you even call yourself that? Looking like a stupid high school girl at 35, flat in the front, flat in the back, thin as a stick, no curves, nothing for a man to grab. With your oversized, discoloured, crooked teeth and overbite, with your stupid laugh lines, with your desert-dry skin and chipped lips. With that big, bony, ugly ass nose. And that annoying, childish, high-pitched voice. Who'd want to listen to it on a daily basis?" It also tells me that I'm most probably too boring for him.

So, if I confessed to him, instead of this:

He'd react like this: