What I Learned Today!!

ATTENTION WOMEN OF THE WORLD!

I don’t care of you are 66.78 pounds soaking wet or if you are 29480237031092 pounds with your clothes off, you are beautiful!  Start believing it and don’t second guess yourself.  If the world doesn’t feel that you are beautiful, its their own damn fault.  You are beautiful.  Let it be known.  NOW.

I say this at this moment in my life simply because I know how hard it is to be a stick and how hard it is to keep your skin even.  I know wrinkles come and hair color fades.  But that doesn’t make you any less beautiful than the next girl. 

I haven’t always felt beautiful.  And sometimes, even today, I doubt my beauty and self confidence.  

When I was in high school/early college, I had an… issue. Yea, lets call it that because I don’t like the word “disorder” and I don’t think that this word describes me.  My issue wasn’t a disorder.  I got over it.  Almost.  But it was a big issue for me. 

In high school, I got it in my head that thin was beautiful.  I feel like this is typical for us ladies.  We see the girls in the magazines and the women who many men find to be “beautiful” and we assume we have to be like them to be loved.  So, in high school I started dieting.  

It wasn’t a healthy kind of diet.  It was pure starvation.  And I feel kind of raw stating this allowed right now.  But, at the same time, I feel like a very raw person these days and raw is all that I can be.  

It started out kind of small.  Food made me sick.   Just looking at it.  I would think about how fat that piece of chicken was going to make me or how many calories that apple had in it.  It really didn’t matter it it was a so called healthy food, I would still stress about it.  

After months of counting calories, I had reached a weight that should have been acceptable.  I looked good.  I felt light.  And I loved it.  But, instead of stopping, I picked up a few more bad habits.

Every single morning I would weigh myself to see how “fat” I was.  If I hadn’t lost at least a pound, I would kick myself mentally.  I would call myself a cow all day and tell myself that I was ugly.  This would lead me to not eating at all.  After all, if I wasn’t thin I wasn’t beautiful.  And I just had to be beautiful.  

When weighing myself and counting calories wasn’t enough, I started puking.  Yes, yes… I know it is gross.  But you would be surprised how many people do it to try and stay slim.  

The puking was most deffinatly NOT my finest hour.  I would take the end of my toothbrush and gag myself until I vomited all of the food I had eaten during the meal before up.  In fact, I even timed myself.  I would give myself up to an hour to go to the bathroom and get rid of my food.  I usually liked to aim for thrity minutes… But sometimes circumstances made it so I couldn’t do it within that thirty minutes.  If I hadn’t “gotten rid of” said food by an hour after eating it, I would feel defeated and spend the rest of the night in bed telling myself how fat I was.

It was an ugly cycle.  I would get so hungry I couldn’t take it anymore so I would eat food.  Then I would go and throw up said food as quickly as possible.  It hurt.  A lot actually.  And I don’t even mean emotionally.  I am talking physically.  Sometimes I would puke up blood.  But instead of being worried, I would look at is as another pound off the scale. 

Then came the smoking.  The first time I lit a cigarette was with my best friend.  We bought a pack and split it in celebration of my 18th birthday.  When I realized that smoking made it very hard for me to be hungry, I made it a habit and continued doing it.  It was a great breakfast to me and I loved the feeling of not being hungry. 

So I was a calorie counting, scale obsessed, puking, smoking idiot.  And though at the time I felt it was all good for me because I kept getting skinnier, it really hit me hard.  I was always dizzy and always hungry.  This was honestly the worst times of my life.  But I was thin so did I care?  Not so much.  

I never thought I was malnurished or even that I looked thin.  People tell me all the time how thin I supposidly was but I still don’t believe them.  I think they are just blind.  But realistically maybe I was?  Who knows.  I’ll never listen to all that.

When I got to college, I started walking every where I went.  To class, to people’s houses and even to go out and do things.  My college campus wasn’t easy to drive around.  So most of the students just walked.  I started to get dizzier than normal.  A kind of dizzy even I, as Gabi Freakin Madden, couldn’t quite take.  I knew I had to eat so I did.  If I didn’t I wouldn’t have had the energy to get out of bed in the mornings.  (which happened a lot my first year there)  So, I started eating like a real, breathing person again and I give the credit to me getting over my “issue” to leaving home for college. 

Every now and then, I would still make myself throw up the food I ate.  I’d go to the dorm bathrooms and thrust the end of my toothbrush down my throat, gagging up anything that I thought might make me fat.  Sometimes I still do this today.  It isn’t often.  But, a habit like that is hard to break.  So, on the rare occasion, I will thurst my finger down my throat and let it all go.  I won’t lie, I feel better right afterwards.  But, then again, I feel like shit.  Because it is such an ugly habit…

As hard as these times were for me, I don’t regret going through it.  I know now how hard it is for some women to stay thin.  I also know what it is like to feel so beat down and so ugly to go to these extremes to be beautiful.  This experience makes me feel closer to women who also struggle with their self esteem.  

Above all else though, I realize that it isn’t how thin you are that makes you beautiful.  It isn’t about your outsides at all really.  It is more about how much love and happiness you give to the outside world.

I am now by no means thin.  I haven’t been thin for awhile.  I am a curvy girl and I am now able to embrace that because I had these struggles in my early life.  I don’t want to go back to being dizzy and weak.  I just want to be healthy.  Sometimes people tell me I have gained weight in the last couple years.  And sometimes it hurts me because I automatically think they are calling me fat.  (I think almost anything anyone says has to do with me being fat so I am still very sensitive about these things.)  

Honestly though, I know I am not as thin as I used to be.  And I am okay with that deep down.  Because I KNOW the things I went through to be the so called “thin.”  I know how much it hurts and how much energy it takes to maintain that.  So it puts things into perspective for me.

I also realize I will never be that thin again.  There are times where I wish I still had this “issue” as I call it.  I still wish I didn’t eat and that I had the balls to shove my toothbrush down my throat to make myself puke.  But I won’t go back to that.  I won’t hurt myself like that again.  And this is a promise to myself.  

By no means do I wish to be obese or incredibly hefty.  But this isn’t because it isn’t attractive.  This is because it isn’t healthy and I would like to be there for my family and friends as long as I can.  I don’t want to wear out my heart or not have any teeth.  But, I can honestly say I am content with who I am.  I’m not a bulemic, thin, malnurished child.  I am a curvy woman and I am okay with that.  

I believe that working out, eating healthy and being healthy is all that is truly important, no matter what size you are or what the number the scale says.  

So here is what I am getting at:  I’ve struggled.  That’s how I know other women struggle.  And no matter what that struggle may be, I respect it.  And I want YOU to KNOW that you ARE gorgeous.  You’re gorgeous, both because of that struggle and because God never created no garbage, as my mother and father used to tell me.  

Right now, the world has an idea of what beauty really is.  Especially America.  We see thin supermodels, thin actresses and we assume that is how we have to be.  We assume this because they are always in our face, screaming at us not to eat that sandwich or that bag of chips.  But it isn’t true.  

Thin isn’t beautiful.  Fat is beautiful.  BEAUTIFUL IS BEAUTIFUL.  And until the women (and I guess the men too…) of the world start believing this, we will be constantly bombarded by fad diets and bony thin pictures of people we are supposed to be like. 

Women of the world, in this moment, right now if you are reading this… I WANT YOU TO KNOW YOU ARE BEAUTIFUL.  I WANT YOU TO ACCEPT IT.  I WANT YOU TO RELISH IN IT.  No matter your struggles, no matter the number on the scale, no matter the amount of make up you do or do not put on.. YOU ARE BEAUTIFUL. 

Start believing it now.  And maybe, together, we can change the world. 
<3 

This isn’t your average Gabi Blog.

This won’t be very funny.  So if you’re looking for something to giggle at or for me to make fun of everyday life shit, you won’t find that here.  And this blog?  This one is more for me than for you.  I don’t care if you like it or even really read it.  I’m just gonna write it.

Ten minutes ago, I was laying in my bed at my parents house balling my eyeballs out like a whiney little shit.  Why you may ask, would I be doing this?  I’ll tell you why.

Because I have been F*#@!& over and screwed about.  That’s why.  

Many people already know I have very low tolerance for guys.  They irritate me.  They piss me off.  They make me want to throw very solid and very hard objects at their faces.  I know why this is.  But many other people don’t.  So they just think I’m silly for being a man hater.

I was fourteen when I got my first “real” boyfriend.  I say “real” because this is where my man hatred started.  

Like I said, I was fourteen and very ignorant.  He was a tool bag.  I should have never even given him the time of day.  But I did and that’s on me.

I snuck to see him once after school, without my parents knowing, and things happened.  Those things, which I will not give in grave detail, took a lot out of me.  It was the first time “things” had happened with a boy and I.  But, like a fourteen year old, I thought it was something it wasn’t.  The next day he broke up with my fourteen year old sorry ass and the downward spiral started from there. 

I looked for something with the opposite sex.  Who in the hell knows what it was, even I can’t say.

My father?  He was a great one.  Is a great one.  So, I know for a fact it wasn’t “daddy issues.”  Whatever it was, I continued this progression.  Boy after boy became man after man.  And I was constantly looking for approval and love from someone with a penis. 

This “love from a person with a penis” issue is still valid today.  I still get lonely when I don’t have a guy to appease me.  I still base my self worth on how many men find me attractive.  And I still cry, late at night, snuggled up to my pillow because I feel so damn lonely!  Even when there are 37 million people around me….  

Let me just give an example of how ugly I can be when it comes to this issue:  Not even a matter days ago, I was at my ex boyfriends house.  ”Hanging” out with him.  This ex would text me all the time telling me how lonely he was and how I was the only person who made him feel better.  He’d tell me how much he needed me and how I should just come over because he needed me there.So of course, being the ignorant fourteen year old again, I headed on over there.  

I care for the boy.  That much is known.  Otherwise I wouldn’t have been there.  It felt nice to hear him say the things he said to me, I won’t lie.  And I was legitimately happy while I was there.  Things happened as things often do when you are with a person of the opposite sex that you care for.  And then… I left.  

I haven’t heard from him since.  He hasn’t text me to say, “hey Gabi, how are you doing today?” or even to say “kiss my fat, black ass.”  He hasn’t said anything.  And he WON’T say anything.  And how do you think THAT makes me feel????

Like a real sack of shit, that’s how.

To be honest though, I made my bed.  This isn’t the first time this individual has done this to me.  It happens frequently.  

His other pastimes include: telling me he loves me and that he wants to be with me.. Asking me to be with him and date him.  Doing “things” with me that you would do with your boyfriend or girlfriend.  And, a day later saying, “Gabi, I am just not ready to date you” AFTER asking me out.   

And this??? This is the story of my pitiful little life.  

Men come.  Men go.  Men say these appealing things that make my heart skip and then?  They bail.  Or beat me.  Or call me insulting names because they can.  

THIS is NOT a cry for attention.  I don’t want anyones pity.  I just want people to know me a bit better.  Because I put up a front.  A front of a girl who hates men.  I flirt too much and I play too often.  But when it comes right down to it?? I am just a girl with a whole lot of issues.  And a whole lot of things go on behind this pretty little mask that I paint on.  

My issues with males run deep.  Deeper than one little blog can explain.  But honestly? I am just like the rest of the idiotic human population.  Looking for love and someone to spend my life with.  Yea I said it.. SOMEONE TO SPEND MY LIFE WITH.

I talked to an ex today.  An ex that isn’t like the others.  He doesn’t invite me to hang out just so he can penetrate me and bail again.  He invites me over so we can talk and catch up.  Nothing happens.  We hug.  Chat.  That’s about all it is.  (Not that I wouldn’t because he is an amazing guy.)  Somehow though, the two of us got on the topic of OUR relationship.  

This whole time I had never thought badly of this man.  And we have been apart for years.  He is still a great guy in my book.  But after going over our break ups and reasons why it never worked, guess who was to blame???

I was.  

This got me to thinking: if I had treated one guy who was sooo amazing to me (and he was) so badly, then maybe I deserve all the crap I have had to put up with when it comes to men and relationships.  All the abuse and all the heartbreaks… Maybe karma is a real thing.  

Maybe karma got the best of me. 

So, I take the blame for my man issues.  If I had treated the ones who deserved to be treated well with respect and gave them the love they deserved, I wouldn’t be where I am now.  I wouldn’t hate men and I wouldn’t have had to deal with 27470271708371 assholes.  

People tell me I just “haven’t met the right guy yet.”  But I don’t think that’s it.  I think I have been hurt so badly by the guys who shouldn’t have mattered that I treated the ones who could have like shit.  

And though sometimes it hurts to breathe and though sometimes when I cry, my heart feels like it may burst, I know that in the end it all comes back to me.  

I am the reason for my own sorrow.  

I could have been better….

Barbie Girl.

A couple weeks ago, I met this girl.  

I don’t know her name.  And to be honest I don’t care.  

She was a girl.  She was a pretty girl.  A straight girl.  A black girl.  And she was a damn well nice girl.  But, she had these eyelashes….

The eyelashes was the throw off.

It was quite obvious that Girl (lets call her that for lack of a better title) wanted to be my friend.  She hollered for me to come sit next to her and tried to talk to me during every break.  Not in a “I want your body Gabi” kind of way.  Just in a friendly kind of way.  

She was one of those pretty types.  The type most girls hate because they are jealous.  So, I understood why she wanted to befriend me.  Since I am not upset by a girl being prettier than I.

So we hit it off okay.  We started talking.  Just talking, not “talking.”  

We chatted about boys and who was hot and who was not.  (More so who was not since we both were obviously very picky.)

Eventually we got onto the topic of her fake eyelashes and fake hair.

When I say fake I MEAN fake.  Like super fake.  Not like “Oh that’s cute” fake.  More like “OH MY FREAKING GOD PLEASE KILL ME THATS FAKE.”  

And I legit hate to say bad things about this girl because she was very sweet.  But… Honestly though… Come on chica!?? really???

Instead of “Girl” lets name her “Eyelashes.”  It just seems more appropriate. :-P

So Eyelashes and I really hit it off.  And she starts asking me about my ethnic background.  

She thinks Im Italian….

Im totally Irish.  But whateve….

“You look like Snookie’s best friend,” (giggle giggle) says Eyelashes one day.

Oh Okay… So I look like a chunky drunk bitch?  IS that what you are trying to say whore….?

Of course I didn’t say that.  I just giggled like a school girl as I do not like confrontation.

OK.. I lied.  I do.  I love it.  Especially with bitches.  But I dug Eyelashes and wanted to try and be this Barbie’s friend…

OK.  I can accept that I look like an Italian, drunk whore.  

That’s fine….

BUT THEN... Eyelashes starts talking more about my appearance.  

Granted, I don’t try too hard.  I put on make up here and there and I smile.  But beyond that?  I mean come on?  You either like me or you don’t.  BUT!!!! Eyeslashes tells me how AMAZING I would look with some fake hair.

“You should die your hair even darker Gabi.  And then get extensions!! You would look sooo good!!!”

Look bitch, I like my natural hair.  So bug off.  And shut up. 

I didn’t say this.  I just nodded and smiled like a dumb ass. 

Then, Eyelashes goes on to talk about my eyes.

“You’d look sooooo good with fake lashes Gabi,” says Eyelashes…. “It would bring out your eyes so well!”

Okay… Look chick… My eyes ARE ALREADY HUGE.  And I am pretty proud of my natural lashes.  So bug off again please.  

Your lashes look like they could grab up people and eat them.  In fact, I am pretty sure that’s how you get men.  You bat your eyes and they just get damn well stuck in your lashes.  

Because they can’t get out…. They just chill there and give in to your bitch ass….

At this point, I was done with Eyelashes.  She had started annoying me.  Life for real…. I am not a fake ass hoe.  

The next thing she said was: “gabi, you should totally put dark makeup on so you look tanner.  You’d totally look like Cleopatra!!”

Really?  REEEALLLY!?

Shut the hell up bitch. 

Just because you’re fake doesn’t mean I want to be.

And last time I checked, I got plenty of action without being fake.

SOOOO, I am not sure how you men feel about it… Or even how you women feel about it…. BUT I DON’T dig fake.  I don’t like the preppy good for nothing boys.  Or the fake good for nothing women.  

Be you and be hot.  

So, dearest Eyelashes, please go freak yourself.  Because as much as I might have liked you… You kind of just pissed me off.  

 I am sorry I can’t be fake like you..

<3 
Gabs 

Keep your junk in your trunk. Or at least in your pants…..

The other morning, as I was getting off work at 7 AM, I wandered to my locker to retrieve my things.  The first thing I do after retrieving my things is pick up my phone and look to see if anyone left me any lovely, wonderful textual messages.

As I had hoped someone had!! 

As I opened the message my eyes grew wide, my jaw dropped to the ground and my stomach did a little flip.  (Not a good, excited flip mind you.  But a disgusted, grossed out, I want to commit suicide right now kind of flip.)

Staring back at me from my handy, dandy, beautiful, lovely, INNOCENT iPhone was a penis….  

:-/

Yes, I said it.  A PENIS.  A hard, throbbing, full massed penis.  Just chilling there looking at me.  I could feel that penis speaking to me, taunting me (again NOT in a good, exciting way.)  Saying hello and good morning.   A salute to Gabi, if I may.

At first I did not know what to do.  Do I look at said penis?  Do I turn away from said penis?  Should I scream?  Run away?  I felt as if my phone and my eyes desperately needed a soaking in a gallon of rubbing alcohol.  

Instead of doing these things though, what did I do???

I laughed.  

A big, huge, echoing laugh that filled the entire locker room.  Following that laugh was a loud an obnoxious, “Well THATS a penis!!” escaping from my lips.

Everyone in the locker room stoped, stared at me and shook their heads.  
Psh… as if THEY had NEVER seen a penis…

This isn’t the first time I have had the Penis Text.  

I have had many.  (Even Penis Videos, featuring a man wacking at that poor, unexpected thing.)  Ranging from small penises to large penises.  To short penises to long penises.  

Now and again a penis finds its way to my phone and once it makes it there it doesn’t look so much like a penis.  It looks more like a mushroom.  A mushroom that has been hit by a lawnmower, chopped up and spit out.  And sometimes still the penis looks as if it has a bad case of the mumps.  These are my favorite Penises because they are just so sad and so alone.  It makes me laugh.

Now, you may believe that the way I talk about these penises is loving, as if I am inviting more Penises to find their way to my phone.  But, you are wrong.  In fact I DO NOT enjoy these Penises galloping to my phone, all sweaty and panty like.  I do not enjoy them one bit.  

The men attached to these penises must also believe I enjoy the occasional Penis Text, as they send them with such confidence and giddiness.  

Well I hate to burst your horny little bubble (or deflate your excited little wanker) but BRRAAA I do NOT enjoy your Penis Textuals.  

Please, for the love of God, do not send me your penis.  If I wanted your penis I would come and get your penis.  Im not shy.  I don’t hesitate when I want something.  I go over to it and grab it right up.  IF I am NOT doing this with your “member,” then rest assured that I do not want it.  And I sure don’t want to see it pointing and smiling at me from the screen of my iPhone.  

Men: This is not a classy move.  You are not going to get good girls by mass messaging them your cock.  If you do happen to get a girl’s attention in this manner, it is likely that she will have a rotten crotch.  (Rotten Crotch-a boiling, infested, smelling, oozing sort of thing that should never be poked, prodded OR fed.)  

The classy ladies I know have no desire to see your wanker.  (I know this because we have discussed it.  No woman digs the wanky panky picky wickies)

Pictures of your wanker DO NOT make us hot.  They do not make us want you.  They do not make our loins ache or our body’s lust for you.  Just stop. Please, please stop.  While you are still ahead.  

Now, I realize that seeing photos of our breasts and booties often knock your socks off.  But, just keep in mind: WE ARE NOT YOU.  WE ARE IN NO WAY LIKE YOU. YOUR PENIS IS NOT ATTRACTIVE.  YOU MAY BE ATTRACTIVE, BUT YOUR PENIS IS A FLIPPING DUMB ASS PENIS!!! SEEING IT ISN’T GOING TO DO ANYTHING FOR US.

Just stop.

Thank you and much love.
Gabs 

<3

;)

Beautiful

I will never be what I was before. 

That girl is gone, she is no more. 

And whether that’s good or whether that’s bad, 

Whether you’re happy or whether you’re sad,

It doesn’t much matter, as you can see.

I am still beautiful.

I am still me.
<3 

Blandness.

Have you ever been somewhere…. Maybe work, Maybe just walking around in a store, or Maybe even just picking your nose and minding your own business and said “hello how are you” only to receive a lifeless “fine” and a glance at the ground??

I have.  All the time.  And I hate it.  

First off, if I am asking you how you are it isn’t just silly small talk for me.  I legit want to know how you are.  I don’t care if you are my best friend, an aquatance, or some billy bob I don’t even know!! I WANT TO KNOW HOW IN THE HELL YOU ARE GOSH DARN IT!

That way, if you are in fact shitty, I can make your day a better place!! :-D

So please, sweet little baby jesus, do NOT submit me to your crappy “Fines” and shy glances at thr ground. Answer me!!

I can’t stand boring people.  But, more than not being able to  stand boring people, I can’t stand lifeless people.  I want conversation.  And if I have to wait on you and you are standing in front of me for longer than 30 seconds, I want to have a damn conversation.

I like to talk.  That’s why my name is Gabi.  My mom knew when she popped me out of her vaginal cannal that I would be a talker.  If you walk up to me and see my name tag clearly marked GABI, assume that YOU are going to have to talk to me. 

If you do not talk to me and if you do not at least act remotley interested in a conversation with me, I WILL talk your ear off.  I will make awkward jokes and potentially make a fool of myself.  And, most likely, I will tell you some LIFE STORY while you are standing there asking of my services.  

Just talk back. 

In the job force, I believe at least, we are supposed to be friendly and make your experience enjoyable.  

I am very passionate about this.  So, if you come to me, no matter where it may be, and I am in the “working field” YOU better BELIEVE I am going to talk your face off.  Talk back.  Otherwise it will just get incredibly awkward as I tell you about all of the things I have had pierced in my lifetime, all about my ex boyfriends and about my drunken escapades!! 

Dear People Who Read My Blog:  If you encounter a person who talks like me, talk to them.  Unless they are just crazy.  In that case, walk away briskly and contact your nearest psych ward.

Every area in my life is my playground.  If I were in jail I would probably try to talk to the murderers and ask them how they are.  I bet they would give me more than just a “FINE.”

You should too!

So, like I said, give in.  Give your ears to me.  Because life is too short and I am too young to look at you and blab on about “what great clothes these are” that you are buying.  

Don’t be bland. 

Thank you!
<3

Gabs 

shadowsofthesoul asked: Hi, I really like your poetry, and I enjoy your long reads.

Thanks!! I am so glad you enjoy them! :) 

Imagination is One Powerful Thing.

I honestly believe that this whole concept of “being in love” is simply in our imaginations.

I am sure there are 37 million people out there who would roll there eyes at this statement.  They would call me bitter or cold hearted.  But, seriously?  How many times do people think they are “in love” and a few days later end up hating the person they we sooo in love with?  

It happens all the damn time.  You can just get on Facebook to see proof of that!

So, in my own personal opinion… Love is shit.  And shit stinks. lol!! 

No, I really do believe in love.  Just not this lovey dovey crap we see on TV or that we try to paint our relationships to resemble.  

I care about many people.  I love my family with every ounce of energy I have.  I love my friends the same way.  I would do anything for the people I care about if they really needed it.  

But, these people that I love will always do crap things to me.  Thats human.  We hurt each other, put each other down inadvertently and shit in each others cereal.

It’s pretty normal.

These people who are “in love” though?? The moment that someone shits in their cereal or hurts them even accidently, they hate them.  Then, they blame the WHOLE world for feeling like crap and say they hate all men/women/blahblahshutthehellup.

 THIS IS HOW I KNOW THE WHOLE BEING IN LOVE THING IS MADE UP.

To me, love is unconditional.  

If you love someone (really love them and not just that LOVE that you say to everyone JUST because they did something cute or funny) then you don’t ditch them.  You don’t turn your back on them no matter what they do to you.  You may get mad at them or even tell them you want nothing to do with them.  

In the end though, where are you?  Right next to them.  Because love is unconditional.  It’s legit blind.  It sees no flaws.  And it is strong enough to outlast any situation.

Other than my family and friends, I have never seen love like this anywhere.  Maybe I am just not really looking.  But, it seems like we all “say” we are so in love. And then?  As soon as that person does something we don’t like, what do we do?  

We dump them.  

We tell them how much we hate them and how fat and stupid they are.  

Would we do that to our parents?  Our sisters?  Our best friends?  No, we wouldn’t.  Because, first of all, if we did they would just call us dumb and ugly.  And, second of all WE LOVE THEM.  

We aren’t “in love” with them.  (Because that’d be hella awkward.)  We just damn well love them!! We love the holly hell out of them!!! 

Then, we go and we “fall in love.”  With some boy or girl.  And we are just soooo crazy about these people.  We talk about them, tell them how sexy they are, make googly eyes at them and write their names next to hearts. (I’m vomiting if you really do this last one…)

Five seconds later?? Those people are shit to us.  We have forgotten them like yesterdays lunch that we have already shit out….

This is why I don’t believe in the being “in love” thing.  

If being in love were really a life option, it wouldn’t end so ugly with someone always cursing someone else. 

If there is such thing as being “in love,” it will be unconditional.  The person you are with will do crazy things and you won’t like them.  At the end of the day though you will still love that person. 

That’s what being “in love” really means.  
How many of you actually have that???

I know I sure as hell won’t stop looking until I find someone I feel like that about.  And if I never find him?? Well, I guess I will still be the bitter, cold hearted bitch that I am! 

<3
Gabs