"Closed off from love, I didn't need the pain...
I keep bleeding, keep keep bleeding love..."
- Leona Lewis "Bleeding Love"
Note: Bored and venting. In the very least, I'm trying to channel these frustrations into something productive, maybe even a little relatable? Hmm.
Being on my period. There is only one way to describe it:
frustrating. The feeling that I'm not myself. Like having an off-day-
magnified by tenfold. Being sick and stressed at the same time. The
strongest doses of insecurities, lack of confidence, and unexplained anger.
Having a virus of bad thoughts implanted into my mind, those viruses taking over cells left and right. Constant hungers, constant worries about
getting fat over a suddenly monstrous appetite. However, once appeased, it lasts so momentarily that I wonder if I ate anything at all. The next
time the hunger symptoms start again, I don’t just want it anymore, it
becomes a need.
Males are the enemy. It’s a lose-lose situation. I want
them to think I'm the effing-most-gorgeous-thing to walk the earth, but if they take too close at look, the attention
backfires and I can only hate them for seeing those latest five zits that
have sprouted within the last hour. Those prettier, thin, unsympathetic girls can go
to hell. Maybe their lives are perfect, but right now, I don’t need another
blow to my fragile ego. I don’t need someone else to make me feel uglier or
pettier- no thanks, beyotch, I’m already there.
What is happening? Why is every personal topic a sensitive
matter? Why can’t I just smile, nod, simply ignore it? Why must my favorite, fitted clothes mock me? Why must foundation irritate my skin? Why
are other people so much more content, go about so calmly? My tear ducts run
wildly out of control, moody dark eyeliner be damned.
Attention becomes deficit, efficiency? What is that anymore?
Time doesn’t matter, because the uncomfortable feelings aren’t easing up, so why
must I work harder? I’m not procrastinating,
I’m sick! I’m tired! I’m fully incapacitated by cramps! Bloating! Fatigue!
Hunger! Draining. My body is being drained of blood- and there isn’t even a hot
vampire to make it worthwhile. It's so far from romantic, and so close to a drug addiction.
Why, Mother Nature? Why are we chosen to carry this huge
burden every month, and face the even more dire consequences of not receiving? A
double-edged sword, a cursed repeat, a waste of time. You are cruel, bestowing
it on half the population, and being biased about the rest. You are shooting
the messenger, Mother Nature. I come with soft wants and romantic whimsies and
you bring me nothing but pain and frustration. You give me the one male trait I
don’t want- vehement, unruly aggression. I am unclean. I am brittle. Battered. Brassy.
My hair loses its shine, and so does my personality.







