My Thoughts In Letters

My addiction to the vampire movie was unbelievable. That's not a typo. I'm writing WAS because I am finally over the OMG stage.

Don't misunderstand. I still looooove the movie. And the books are really something. I wish I wrote like that. I'm just beyond the highschool girl fanaticism moments.

Intro the sound of a farthing romance from Edward "you-make-my-knees-weak" Cullen.

My reality does not come with a soundtrack. It does not come with being from Arizona and not having tanned skin. Or from being far too clumsy. Or from being literally swept off my feet by a man who has a penchant for the smell of my blood.

Reality check.

I'm a morena from the tropics who can move quite gracefully. I can't accommodate a gorgeous non-human flying in and out of my windows every night, lest I wanna hear gunshots coming from the direction of my father's outraged voice. And I wear perfume. A lot.

I'm a far cry from the word breathtaking though I always hear that I am beautiful inside. I have attractive intestines, so I'm told. I just don't pay attention to them really.

I get pimples every now and then from not sleeping enough. Yeah that red bump. People who write nonsensical blogs get pimples. Twenty-something yuppies get pimples. Women who are bullied while stuck in traffic get pimples. So why is having a pimple such an issue if it's so common?

Because being common is bad enough, but being common AND ugly is just so sad.

... And voila! It makes being a pale, statuesque bloodsucker my desired look of today? As if the heavens needed more evidence of how completely insane I am. 

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Listening to Colorblind by Counting Crows and Linger by Cranberries