God, I don’t want to be ugly anymore. Why did you make me so ugly? Why did you create me and then give no chance to be happy? Why did you do this to me?
I hate the Holidays. Christmas. Wishing for something every year that never comes true. Something that I will never have. Someone that I will never have. Someone that will never know or care that I exist. I hate having to dteam of a life I can never have.
Yet I go go on pretending. Pretending that she knows. That she cares.
But she doesn’t. She doesn’t come here to read or watch, much as I might hope otherwise. Whoever does probably laighs at me, but she has obviously never seen how my heart yearns for her. She will never know these things or care about them.
And the winter will come. And it will get colder. It always gets colder when she isn’t there.
So if you are listening, God, please, I don’t want to be ugly anymore. I don’t ask for much at all, and since you can’t or won’t give me what I really want, I think for once I would just like to be beautiful so someone will like me and fall in love with me, too.