damik's Diaryland Diary

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I just need to get drunk enough to think of myself as pretty too.

It amazes me. There are such fucking gorgous women at the club. Some that I would swear were just recently taken out of their barbie boxes. Tall and beautiful, everything that any man would want in a woman. Flirting and shining for all around them. And me, I'm not even chubby barbie, still rejected from the bargin bin, I'm lower then even that. And yet standing alone at my table, men still approach me. They still look into my eyes and tell me I'm beautiful. That I have a great body. And I wonder if I'll ever believe them. If there will ever be a time when I don't wait on the punch line. When I won't come home and stare at the mirror and wonder what they were talking about, what they were seeing. It can't be me, it can't be me he was looking at.
Or maybe I am pretty through a glass of beer. Strongly believe drunk enough, anybody is pretty.

1:10 p.m. - 03-15-03
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