absolutum dominium

I've always been the fucking hypocrite. I hate original girls. I hate females who are weak, who don't assert themselves. I hate the image that they give the rest of us girls - that's right, I'm part of the rest -, I hate the fact that a bunch of weak plastic Barbie wannabe ah lians can set back what the Women's Lib Movement has been trying so fucking hard to establish.

That said, I used to think I was strong. That I was one of the rational ones. I could think with logic and reason instead of raw emotion. That I was strong enough to control my emotions, to ensure that no one would ever rule me except for myself.

There's so much of an image and a reputation that I feel pressured to upkeep, so much strength and calm and reserve and steel that I feel I always have to show, so much of a front to put up to give the world the idea that I was a strong woman, regardless of how I would feel so insecure or small, scared and alone, and crumbling within the recesses of my interminable mind.

My imagination is probably one of my biggest gifts and curses. It's incredibly fertile, which makes for among other things, interesting blog feeds. But it gives me so much pain. Because I hate it that I know reason, I know logic, I know what I have to, should, must do in all rationality... But my heart just doesn't want to do it.

It's one thing for me to take all the very sound advice - which I see no fault or holes with, and I know the sheer amount of care and concern that has gone into them - and say that I will follow what has been said, knowing that it is the best thing to do for me, to stop the circular nature of my predicament, to find my way of this entangled Mobius Strip. But to be honest, I know that deep inside I don't want to. My mind wants to, but my heart doesn't, and I don't know how to will it.

I've had so much problems getting over issues in the past for the same reason; because my mind would want it but deep inside I knew that I didn't really want to. That I would never fully close the door, never fully delete them from my memories, from my dreams, from the images in my mind.

Was dressed incredibly well today, and I know that I place too high a value on aethetics. Frankly speaking, I shouldn't, because I'm not perfect and I'm not aesthetically-pleasing enough to place such high standards.

But aesthetics matter. I notice, and I notice and I notice.

And my imagination works and works and works and I imagine the worst-case scenario. And worse than that, I get affected. I get jealous. Unreasonably unthinkingly jealous. I know I shouldn't be because my mindset has been fucking screwed up all this time and I need to unscrew it, but it doesn't work fast enough for my liking.

And why should it even matter to begin with??? We've established what we've had to establish. I've already known that things would never be as they were, that I can't change anything, and I refuse to subsume my pride any further.

No, never for this. Not even.

But fuck, why the fuck am I so fucking affected? It shouldn't affect me because I know it wouldn't matter to you.

And I know I should be rational and in control, but instead I'm letting my emotions run away with me again.

I feel so fucking depressed. Need ice-cream, but settled for a milo bar. God, I feel so weak. Like one of those sad original girls who hangs on to external factors but never finds that strength within.

What am I going to do? I need to be strong. I need to be rational. I cannot allow myself to fall apart.

Not again.