My guest today is Jain.

Jain is anonymous.  Do I know her?  Maybe I do and maybe I don’t. I will tell you I relate to many of the things she writes about.

Am I normal?  Are other people like me?  Does anyone else…

Jain has some things to say and she would love if you followed along. Let her know what you think of what she REALLY thinks about things.

After all part of having a voice is finding someone to listen to it!



I’m scared

Scared I’ll be found out. One day I will, I know this. I also realize this is a process. An experiment, of sorts.
I’ll give myself to the public in very personal ways, and I’ll be confronted with many haters and lovers of my words. Friends and foes will question my intentions. My fears will come to fruition, and I’ll need to deal with them as they come.
I’ll be approached by con-artists and phonies. Distinguishing between good and evil is the game I try to win. I can only try.
Bringing my emotions to the surface will bring shock and awe, in many respects. I don’t expect everyone to appreciate my honesty. I DO expect to open myself up and be vulnerable to myself.


I’m paranoid

My crew are all functioning members of society. We are friends and co-workers. We have careers and people who admire us. We make daily promises to ourselves and our loved ones to try harder. It’s imperitive we stay anonymous. Leading two lives is difficult, sometimes.

It’s a tight crew, I run. Plenty of love. My desire for them is success and happiness, and I’m an important part in creating beauty for them. Although I am abrasive and hard, I am love.
I’m paranoid of loved ones leaving. I’m paranoid their love will be lost in the disarray and confusion of my life.
Maybe this page will bring light to the reality of normal people. Maybe you will finally realize that you aren’t so different from me. Especially the ugly parts.


I’m weak

Many days I fail to see how awesome I am. My crew suffers because I blatantly disregard their favor. I ignore the love they try to give me.
My tears may be dried up, but I feel the emptiness in the pit of my belly, every time sadness surfaces. While I’m busy focusing on myself, the shadow of depression creeps under my covers and surrounds me in comfort.
Then I let it suffocate me.


I’m a glutton

This is pretty self explanatory, but I’ll break it down a bit. Given my druthers…
Top shelf over rail.
Glass over plastic.
Fresh over frozen.
More over less.
Classy over Shabby Chic
Medicinal over shwag.
Fast over practical.


I’m the new girl

My insecurities abound as I walk into this proverbial classroom. I want to write and bring art to the masses. I need to share my innermost feelings without giving up my identity. Being the new girl on the block has many advantages. Connecting with people is made a little easier since my juvinile physical insecurities don’t need to surface. It feels great to get to know someone on that level. Physical insecurities surface at a later time. Usually, once I form a strong bond with that person, the physical insecurities are so tiny. Insignificant, to even me.
In starting this page, I hope I will find women and men who can relate to my everyday life. The ugly things still make me who I am. Until I accept every part of myself, I’ll never truly love people the way they deserve.


I’m real

I hurt.  I ache.  I dream.  I overindulge (quite regularly). I hate.  I love.




7 thoughts on “UGLY ME

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