Attention Whore

The mirror never lies, like the eye of the beholder.

High heels are so not worth it, neither are cleavage dipping tops.

Too many unfulfilled promises- the eye seems to say now. It wanders to the bottle in my hand, beer, golden or green actually.

Alcohol never made me lose my senses, I try to tell those eyes.

The mirror lies, I realize when I look into his eyes, so do the photographs that display unflattering side profiles. I am unsure suddenly, its the golden-green drink I tell myself. I don't know about the truth- but the beauty is in his eyes. My beauty, I mean. His eyes darkened by the alcohol and sheer want seem to scream that I am beautiful.

Feels good. Just like I had been promised. It's addictive, the high, the happiness, the attention...momentary too...

I excuse myself.