This is the story of a girl

OddSporadicThought#2

I’ve always had a fear of tight, enclosed spaces. It’s not full-out claustrophobia but I dread riding elevators or walking into crowded rooms. I’ve always imagined myself living in a huge house by the beach with walls made of pure glass. It would have a pool, a jacuzzi, a grand piano, a giant walk in closet, a completely modern interior design with black and white marble floors and furniture. I always thought it would be so classy and sophisticated, sipping wine in a bathtub full of rose petals, dressing in front of an enormous mirror surrounded by an array of clothes hanging neatly on the walls of my walk-in closet/dressing room. I would brew coffee and sit in my brightly lit contemporary kitchen and read the paper or watch the news… and then after all that needs to be done is done, I would sit there, and… then what?

I realized what a lonely existence it would be. Alone by myself in a big empty silent house. Everything would be pristine and beautiful and utterly cold. 

I guess I’d prefer the elevators. 

OddSporadicThought#1

Make-up. Some women refuse to touch the stuff, while others wear so much that their original face is unrecognizable. Most wear it for decor, just to look prettier. But for me, it’s more of a protective measure. When I don’t wear make-up, I feel like I’m exposing my vulnerable side, the old me. The one that was timid, self-conscious, constantly worried, helpless, terrified of the world. It’s odd to think that a little bit of charcoal around my eyes gives me the confidence and strength to face the world, but, as strange as it is, it’s true. 

During finals week, a friend walked into my room while I was completely bare-faced. I promptly kicked him out but he told me later that he was surprised with how different I look. I wonder if I’ll ever find someone I’d be able to be around without any makeup o. Someone to whom I can just let my guard down completely. 

I miss you…