Ever since I was a little girl I would make up stories in my head. Sure…normal for any child right? I mean we all have played pretend as a kid and as adults we fantasize about everything from a better job to wild crazy sex lives…Fifty Shades of Grey style. Me however, I make up stories in my head way better than the ones I live everyday. I'm pretty sure that is some kind of sick mental disease that would place me in a white jumpsuit, Velcro shoes, and a padded room with bars on the door if I ever admitted it out loud. Actually, who am I to think I'm the only one who thinks the way I do? I mean in the grand scheme of things, with all of the other people in this world, I think that I am the only mentally unstable creature here? That wouldn't be the beginning of my narcissism, or the end for that matter. Ive been characterized as many things in my life; smart, funny, sarcastic, nice, talkative... usual words to describe any girl my age trying to find herself…But what does it say about me, that the words I would use to describe myself are selfish and vain. Now don't get me wrong Ill give you the clothes off of my back or drive 50 miles to come help you at any hour of the night…I even gave a homeless man 5 bucks the other day (that's my good deed for the year) but when it really comes down to it, I put myself first. I will overdraft my account for a cute new pair of shoes to impress a new guy, before I would use it as gas money to go see my mother? Then after all of that... I would call her and ask if she could buy me groceries for the week because I am trying to "save money for new work tools." Like a new pair of shoes is going to get me man? If a man is worried about my shoes then I need to add him to my fruit fly list, if you know what I mean. So I guess my thought is WHY. Why is it that at the end of the day we don't care who we fuck over as long as we, ourselves are happy?
*Southern Belle
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