I really fucking hate my face and more complaints

Why is it that every fucking time someone takes a picture of my face I end up looking like an old hag in drag? I have the manliest features. On top of this, no tits, a fat ass, and hair everywhere. Not blessed. Fat arms, unreasonably big feet, short hair, weak nails. To be frank, I am fucking hemmorhaging more blood out of my vagina right now than I have ever in my entire menstrual past and my iron deficiency is now what I would call life threatening, seeing as I don’t have enough energy to stand up.
I hate myself. But there are so many things to worry about I can’t even begin to tackle any of this.
Right now I feel anxious and unloved and I woke up in my boyfriend’s arms crying because I feel so incompetent all the time.

These terms, boyfriend and girlfriend focus perhaps too much on the ownership of it all. This rose is from my partner. He has taught me, above all else, to step outside of myself. To practice empathy, to check my own perception, and to focus on other pathways for thinking and feeling. He never denies my need for growth or self-exploration. I know he loves me deeply. Even if I were lacking all the evidence listed above I would know this. That he loves me deeply. Just by the way he looks into me; with great respect, with passion, and most importantly, with the greatest compassion I have ever met.
Mmmmhmm and it never hurt that he is also quite easy on the eyes.

an exreligious man

An exreligious man - a car newer than my father’s.

I am telling you less than His half of the story.

And all the rest is

Conversation. Laid for carrion birds.

Waiflike, in Sunday sundresses

Picking the at the bones of us. 

I am telling you. I am telling you now.

We are absolutely clean.