Raw Thoughts

Hey Creepy Stalkers!

I'm updating some of my school year writing! Typing everything out is the worst, I swear. Alright, so this specific piece is all about Victoria Westfall (the character I use in most of my writing) and her feelings towards her life problems, and towards Samuel Wolff (again, another one of my characters). Enjoy!

Without wax,
lonewriter7

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I messed up again. As always. Always screwing up, not putting in enough effort, never good enough. I'm never good enough for Dad, and I'll never be good enough for any guy I fancy. How can I be, if my own Dad doesn't believe I'm doing my best? Almost as if I'm not doing anything to make him proud, to make him look at me and say, "You know, she tried her hardest, and I'm proud of that."

I mean, let's face it: if I can't make my own Dad proud, if I can't make him happy, how am I supposed to please someone as far out of my league as Sam? All I do is overreact, socialize, and "half-ass" my work, according to Dad. I don't believe I do, but what if he's right? Maybe I'll always be lacking. Lacking in skill, brains, grades, charm, beauty, attitude... so then what's left? An empty shell that's never going to amount to anything. Someone who will never reach their dreams, their goals. If that's what I am, then what is there to live for?

Sam says all these things, and they make my day, make me smile. For once in a long while, I feel wanted, needed and confident in being totally and completely me... but when I have my Dad on one side telling me I'm not good enough... it hurts. I can't go out and believe with confidence that any guy would like me, that any guy would think I'm smart, that any person would ever find me attractive. I have scars on my arms, and scrapes on my knees. I've got dry legs and weird elbows. I have stuff on my face, and graphite in my eye. I've got fingers that are boney, and an extremely flat chest. How could that be attractive? What part of me can any guy find attractive? I can't imagine Sam to actually think I'm even remotely good looking. It's just impossible to believe.

People say that I'm fishing for compliments when I don't accept praise for my "good looks", but that's not it. I honestly don't think myself worthy of praise. I see all these imperfections in myself, and the only person that can ever make me feel pretty is being shot down by these things that my Dad is practically shouting in my ear. I'm always screwing up. I'm never going to be good enough. I have to try harder. I always give up. I don't follow through with my actions. I'm not getting good grades. These are things that aren't uncommon to me.

I live with these thoughts whispering in my head, and I'm begging for it to stop. I'm begging for just another day when he can hold my hand, just another day to feel his arms around my waist. I beg for just another day when I can feel his breath against my neck, and hear his heartbeat in my ears. Another day when I can be me, and still feel worth something. I beg for just anther day. Another day, because I always mess up.