I couldn’t bare the thought of being with him. He wanted me, had been patient for such a long time… but I had put it off for a reason. I guess, I’m the kind that goes straight to bed and then would develop a relationship.

I don’t know. I know I don’t love him and I can’t wrap my head around why he would love me. What is there to love? An act perhaps.
Oh, please! You know you’re loveable. It’s just his imbecile personality, pseudointellectual ways and constantly disgusting nose. He’s immature. I want a man.

Yesterday morning a crack appeared, stretching over the right side of my thumb. A long one, and now it just won’t start healing. It’s like my body won’t heal unless I’ll allow my mind to.
I think that by defining my fear, I’ve somehow made it come true.

No one sees me. I’m invisible. And i'm not even gonna start the reference to masks, and veils.

Brainwashed, by my own mother… romanticizing, me?

I hate his smell. His scent, I twist, turn, try to sense what I feel, and it comes on slow. I just wanted to see how far it would go. I should have turned him down on the second date.