Confessions

Just like Usher, I have decided to record my confessions; sadly, I cannot dance like he can, and they are not put to music:

I am not, nor will ever be, someone who truly thinks of others. I mostly only help other people if there’s something in it for me.

I love my Rockstar’s Daughter, but there are times when I can’t help thinking that things would be a lot different if she didn’t exist.

I sometimes miss my ex-husband. (But at no time have I ever considered going back to him.)

I sometimes fantasize about living completely alone and having nothing to do except read my arsenal of books.

I secretly (or perhaps not so secretly) wish Chris Meloni’s very tall wife would contract some fatal disease and he would become acutely aware of my existence; causing him to find solace in my disturbingly short arms.

I wonder every day if I have made the right decision to stay with my Rockstar since he doesn’t desire to have babies with me.

I wonder if I started a Playboy-like website starring the one and only Sparkle and charged for membership, if anyone would actually pay to see the ginormous magnificence.

I flirt incessantly, despite the fact that I am in a relationship.

I have fooled the majority of people I know into thinking that I’m independent, but I’m really just a scared little girl waiting for someone to save me. I don’t even know what from.

I put up a front of confidence, but I secretly think homicidal thoughts about every pretty girl I see.

I know I could write better and deeper music than Taylor Swift, yet I am deathly afraid I would do so, and nobody would tell me that I suck just as bad as she does.

I want to shave my head so I don’t have to deal with the pubic-bushlike mess that grows out of my scalp.

I am appalled at the fact that my Rockstar thinks his daughter is too stupid to get any kind of a scholarship to college other than a sports one.

I want everyone in the world to absolutely adore me.

I have written a New York Times bestseller in my head. Sadly, I have had it there so long not written down that I am beginning to hate it.

I have considered eloping with anyone who would ask just to see what would happen.

I consider pursuing sex with most people I meet. (For the record, I only consider it.)

I believe in a higher Being, but I’ve often wondered if Satan is it.

I am terrified of being considered boring and just normal.

 

 

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