The other day, I looked at myself in the mirror after getting a haircut.
I was shocked for a few seconds, then scared—because the person I saw facing me wasn't me.
I felt a weird feeling in my chest and stomach, as if I were just an intruder in my own body and mind.
I catch myself saying things I don’t really mean, but by the time I notice, I’ve already said them. When that happens, I feel the same way as before.
I feel scared because I can't find myself. Sometimes I have to stop and think about what things I like or what type of person I am, and I just can’t tell.
I try to keep my eyes closed and not look down when I shower, because if I do, I’ll make an unpleasant expression; it isn’t really me.
Some days I want to die; on others, I’m scared of dying. Sometimes I just want to feel loved, to feel a connection—the warmth of another human being touching my arms, my hands, my neck, my lips, my hair. But I also hate people. Maybe that’s just a reflection of all the mean comments, sarcastic looks, fake loves, and slaps in the face I received in school. I used to go to school, but now I can’t even do that anymore. I feel anxious and panicked just by leaving my place for too long.
Feb 15
Feb 15, 2026 at 1:16 AM UTC
The other day, I looked at myself in the mirror after getting a haircut.
I was shocked for a few seconds, then scared—because the person I saw facing me wasn't me.
I felt a weird feeling in my chest and stomach, as if I were just an intruder in my own body and mind.
I catch myself saying things I don’t really mean, but by the time I notice, I’ve already said them. When that happens, I feel the same way as before.
I feel scared because I can't find myself. Sometimes I have to stop and think about what things I like or what type of person I am, and I just can’t tell.
I try to keep my eyes closed and not look down when I shower, because if I do, I’ll make an unpleasant expression; it isn’t really me.
Some days I want to die; on others, I’m scared of dying. Sometimes I just want to feel loved, to feel a connection—the warmth of another human being touching my arms, my hands, my neck, my lips, my hair. But I also hate people. Maybe that’s just a reflection of all the mean comments, sarcastic looks, fake loves, and slaps in the face I received in school. I used to go to school, but now I can’t even do that anymore. I feel anxious and panicked just by leaving my place for too long.
Thats my first post here,I hope yall like it.
