McFester.com is on it’s way to becoming a really groovy place! I’ve been working hard!
I’m working on adding the grooviest part about it, too! It’s a secret for now, but I promise it will be toootally worth it!
Follow me on here to get Tumblr-exclusive updates and even links to hidden parts on the site! More to come!
There are the ones who use you because they think you look good.
There are ones who do it because they think perhaps it’ll help them to position themselves where you are.
It’s almost flattering, for them to think you’re lucky.
They’re the ones who look at you smiling and think that it’s all there is to it; That your life is a smile. But that’s all they see. They see the clothes you wear, the way you walk, the people you keep around you. They see only what is visible. The Beatles once said, “There’s nothing you can see that can’t be seen.”
They are the ones that would never in their lives look at you and see what’s really going on. They don’t know that you’re up ev’ry midnight, begging for sleep to come.
They don’t know that you can’t sleep because of the neurosis haunting your mind at night, because of the thoughts that cross your mind when you’re alone in the dark. They don’t imagine you laying in bed, thinking far into the details of your death, itching to be free from the inevitability of it. They don’t know that sometimes you would rather die on your own terms than to be taken at a sudden time. After everything— Learning how to play a guitar. All that practicing, all that satisfaction. Relationships you’ve worked for your entire life. Why?
They are the ones who don’t know that in the morning, you look into the mirror and feel so ugly that you just break down and cry. That you can’t even leave the house.
Mom doesn’t understand that. It’s the one thing that makes her speechless. She says everyone thinks I’m pretty, and when we go places, people are always looking at me. …I don’t want it. I can’t even make eye contact with most people anymore these days. It’s like I see them looking at me and suddenly everything is wrong and my skin is horrendous and my ears are too big. Suddenly everything on me just feels wrong and ugly and awful. I guess I feel like if I don’t look at them, if I don’t see their eyes, then they can’t see me.
They are the ones who want to be like us.
And sometimes, they’re the ones who make us feel worthwhile.
