This is so lame

But has anybody taken the time to realize... how cool Jeffree Star is? Like past the whole scene raver, crazy ass looks, like reading his profiel was.. wierd. He's surpsingly poetic, and really strong worded. I might have a obbession with Jeffree Stars's writing. ahaa. Like really.. i WISH i could right like him, but i have neither the expirence or the no-how. ah




^^^^
This picture stunns me, for some odd reason, and it's not because 1) he has blood runnign down his face or 2) this is a guy lookign like a girl, it's weird.. so abnormally wierd that i'm fascinated with bubblegum pink Jeffree Star, because i thought he would discgust me, and for a while he did. ahhhh.

"The appearance of my own body is cut and dissected every time I breathe. My horror of beauty is not when I’m laying naked on the bathroom floor, but when I’m staring at myself, wondering what’s underneath the painted-on feelings and made-up eyes. I’m not a fucking beauty queen. When I walk into the bathroom, I’m not getting pretty.. I’m destroying myself. Repairing myself from the damage I’ve done. Whether YOU like it or NOT. The ceiling of fear crashes down on me when I pick up the latest fashion magazine and find that no one else looks like me. But what is ME? Where has the word "real" gone to? Maybe reality is blonde hair, plastic body parts, tan skin and porcelain teeth? I think it’s sweaty skin, smeared lipstick and a big mouth, being afraid of nothing and truly LOVING yourself without BEING someone else. The vanity sanctuary will keep me safe and you can try to break me down but you’re only hurting yourself, just like you’re supposed to be doing.

I’ll be dying in my makeup and you’ll be dying without it. Did you have a point? Because somewhere in your own special ugliness you lost meaning and I forgot what you said. So center the text and write some more, it’s all mine..and its all needneedneed.
Memememememe."

"I'm a getaway car for real feelings. I'm your Miss Methamphetamine, the truth shoved up your nose. Smile, with your gasoline teeth and forced empathy. Let me be the one thing that makes your heart break because you can't help it. You need someone like me to make you feel wrong. "

"Because unlike every other bitch on this myspace.com hype, I prefer being under the floor with the worms while you all crash around in the ten inch stilletos you don't need, tripping all over one another's bullshit that drags as far behind you as your fake faces. I like being solitary and refined. I like people passing over me when my face isn't on. Unlike all the angstmonger kiddie-hoppers on myspace, I mean it when I say I COULD CARE LESS and that I am ONLY HERE TO SCREAM MY OPINIONS and I could really GIVE A SHIT LESS IF IT MATTERS TO YOU. "

"
THEY care because they need the hits, the friends, the name that rides currents. They need to be part of the radiowaves that bring anyone else to attention. They need people to turn their heads when they say the same thing everyone else does in the same voice with the same face and in the same $60 pants that were worn in by the same asian kids getting paid the same bum change in the same factory living the same miserable fucking life.

You didn't buy those clothes at a fucking thrift shop. Your idea of vintage is a boy scout shirt complete with badges you never earned nor even understand the symbols of on fucking sale for $99.50, cause the halfbuck is so much less when you don't care where your mommy and daddy's credit card is used. Parading in Prada when you're so fucking punk and XXXtothefuckingCORE that you'll damn the system and bitch when your sister's pants rip at the seam because YOUR ASS DOES NOT FIT, UGLYSCENEBOY."

" I don't expect you to leave me the fuck alone, to erase the word enigma from your minds and thinks me unimportant. I can hope, but we all hope for silly things, don't we?"


"I'm an icon to the teenage underground world. Even JonBenet Ramsey wanted to be me. My sparkling razor sharp tiaras that Miss America style-jacked from me. You'll soon see me inside every magazine, 6 page layouts of me pretending like I have real feelings. My eyes are hidden from the sun beneath huge fake eyelashes and my wrist says "fake" and "vanity" obviously contradicting everything I've already said ??andthenandthenandthen? For an instant, everything feels so important.. almost real.

Everything is monotone like my dead fucking eyes and I'll say "I'm the only Miss America. I'm what your mother was supposed to be. I'm perfect.""



GOD. It's like insane. I'm going to go clean some more. You should ponder on Jeffree Star now. hahah