How about some inate secrets?

Sometimes, I look at myself and go, why can't I be a normal twenty-year-old girl with beautiful nice skin to flaunt. I wasn't like that 3 years ago, and it wasn't that bad a year ago. The doctor said it was genes. Yes, maybe it is. Why am I to deal with such genes that never affect my family members?

Since young, I'm the most sickly, I'm the one with the frequent trips to the doctor. I wasn't unhealthy. I swim, cycle, run - all my favourite activities that I'm ashamed of to do today. I don't want to be contained by this, but yet, I'm such a vainpot that it is impossible to not to do it. Maybe it's something nobody will understand. The ones who have the same condition as me will say that I'm blessed and they wish they were like that. I guess everybody loves self-pity in awhile. I detest self-pity. I detest feeling sorry for myself. I guess, at certain points in everybody's lives, they want to feel that there is a blanket, and that everybody is better off than them and they are facing the worst shit in the world.

Well, get this. Everyone has their shit, and their shit is the worst to them. So I'm free to say that I'm the worst in the world :)

But oh wells. There is nothing that money and medical science can't do. I just wish, sometimes, I am not too imperfect. Like perhaps I could be blessed with better looks or maybe straighter teeth or smoother voice? Maybe money could be something I could be blessed with too. Notice how the rich look stunning? See, money does make the world go round.

So maybe I don't say the truth all the time. I tell lies, everybody does. I tell lies to make myself feel better, everybody does. I tell lies to have a safety blanket. Everybody does that. But why are my lies making me feel more miserable? Shouldn't it make me feel safer, guarded, protected?

See, the whole human facade business thing is crap. Everybody is making themselves miserable, building walls, breaking them, building them again. What an emotional roller coaster.

Sometimes, all I want is to go out stark naked, and have everybody admire me for who I am, in my own skin, with all my imperfections. But I probably will get arrested. I mean, everybody is imperfect yeah? So what and who is there to judge?

Just my two cents. And some crazy relevation in me. Enjoy it, because I'm not one who bears everything. Maybe that is why, the walls start forming.