so, my plan for self love has ceased to kick in. i have so many warped notions of self, i don't even know how to begin untangling the loathing from the reality. whenever i am attracted to someone, i construct a three page list of things that i have to improve about myself. ways in which i have to prepare, and make myself marketable. if only i was skinnier. if only my acne would go away. i only i had more symmetry. if only i were more delicate, graceful, womanly..had smaller bones and features. i can't even tell how i really look anymore. mirrors lie -- my image looks different on every screen and surface it lands. my own sense of perception lies. i just end up feeling damaged. my list of necessary impovements grows.

not only do i hate these thoughts that conspire agasint and accost my very being, i hate the fact that i am banned from expressing them. graceful, delicate, womanly? how dare i bind the corset back to the torso of the woman? there are so many ideas on my tongue, so many postulates brewing -- but to speak any of them would automatically make me un-feminist, reactionary -- the silohuette of a women sickened from viewing too many issues of seventeen. i am sick of silencing that decadent and erroneous language, because the thoughts don't just go away by virtue of being unsaid. they fester .

i have always been disgusted by my female friends who fault their existences because they don't have boyfriends. yet i am begining to realize that it is just them allowing their true selves to speak, the id whining about its needs, stripped of all insinuations of revolution and righteousness. if i were to allow my inner voice to spew forth, it would articulate that i too am still in search of validation. but the ego, or the super ego, or whatever the regulatory force that exists in freud's model, restrains the syllables from forming outside of this space, this blog -- not entirely private, far too self-conscious, but still, a space for my thoughts . .censored and glammed up with vocabulary as is. nonetheless, my hormones will shift, it will pass... i will swear off dependancy again soon. honesty for me comes and goes in cycles .. 1 week horny, 1 week reflective, 2 weeks of denial

hey you! love me back - the verse of a poem that i have long misplaced . yet fitting, as always