When did I become pretty? I have no idea. I don’t even feel like I know the chick in my profile picture on this establishment. It’s not as if I have emerged from some tiny ugly duckling into a beautiful swan, but what does it mean to feel completely disconnected from you own face? I mean, it’s there all the damn time. I see it everyday and yet, I don’t feel like it’s mine.
My face should be square. I can talk to anyone, I can make anyone feel somewhat comfortable, but in relationships that actually count, I can be the most awkward person alive. Maybe you don’t believe me, but I swear it’s true. So I then wonder, do our faces have anything to do with our personalities? Do I look like how I really am? Do people see my face and think, “Hey, there’s a neat kid,” or do they think something entirely different?
I wonder if there’s something wrong with me. Sometimes I think that I spend so much time thinking about things that I think I’ve actually said them, but then I haven’t said them at all and so people feel neglected or ignored. What’s that shit about? I’m even a little embarrassed to be telling you this, dear reader. I don’t want you to think I’m a square, but I do have an inherent need to be truthful with you. It’s a certain weird type of mind-guilt that I experience. Maybe I was Jewish in a past life.
At any rate, this letter to you is very disconnected, but I am trying to establish it all and figure out what it is I’m thinking. Perhaps that is the first step in rounding off my edges and becoming more circular.
yours for now,