Aug 2022
Sometimes
I like the top half of my face, or my eyes, sometimes I even like just my nose, and some days I like my legs, but I’ve never been able to stare into the mirror for very long, stare at pictures for very long.
I know I am ugly, no one else will tell me Ofcourse because why would they? But there are just certain things you can tell by the mannerisms of people when you bring up the subject, and also just the way you’ve been treated in life in comparison to people who are beautiful and interesting. I don’t talk about this much, save maybe the men I’ve managed to keep around for some semblance of time in my life. I am the woman they like to ****, not the one they want to go down with, start a family with, hell, even post pictures with. I let these men crawl over me and onto me, just so I can feel good about myself for a little bit, but it usually just makes me feel worse because in the end they never really want me. I’m so sweet and I’m so nice, and I’m so cool. But things would never work with me.
I know what I am, and maybe my brain is just broken. Maybe my brain really does hate me. But I can’t decide what’s worse, being stuck seeing something that isn’t true and never being able to alter that, or it being true. Either way, I’ll never like myself. We’ve talked about it in counseling and I say it non chalantly but (at first I said I hate myself but then my brain retracted this) I really don’t like myself that much. I’m not happy. Im not happy with myself, with the way I look, and I settle and make a pathetic fool of myself for these people who just don’t ******* matter.
I’ve made (insert name of the man I’ve spent a year of no commitment with) this great friend in my head who will stick through everything but he is not that. He is not that. You knew what this was when it started and you knew what it be if you continued with him, because you saw the red flags in him, and yet you continued anyway. And now he’s in my house. I can’t sleep alone again. I cry every day. My anxiety is awful. I compare myself constantly to other women because of how he reacts to them.
I’ve let myself become all of this. And so on top of not feeling good or pretty or enough. I feel weak. I feel paper thin, like cheap wet dry wall you can stick your finger through.
Not like mama, who is strong, strong like titanium bones that are also weather resistant and just never break. There are days I wish I were like her, days where I could be alone and tell him to *******. But then, how would I measure that I am enough?
I am tired, I am tired of being tired. There are so many signs that I have to ******* hug myself right now, but I am stubborn and I am ******* tired of having these moments of hugging myself. I don’t want to anymore; I am stomping on the ground, Why can’t I have someone!!!!
I feel like life is scolding me, like I am making this about myself, and I should just listen. You know those moments where you yell and yell about something you lost only to find out that it was in your back pocket, something like that but with life.
I wish I knew how to love myself, is the point somehow in all of this. I wish he would leave already. I keep telling myself I wish he would **** someone else. But he’s already done that. Listen to me. He’s already done that. He did it in my house, for months, behind my back. And here I am, still. So I don’t think that will change anything. But why even care now, why even keep tabs on who he likes and doesn’t like? Because he will stop ******* you? It’s not even special, and he doesn’t even kiss you on the lips, or look at you. He doesn’t love you, and all you will find in him is pain, pain and more time that you could have spent on yourself again. When will I ever learn? When.
I like the top half of my face, or my eyes, sometimes I even like just my nose, and some days I like my legs, but I’ve never been able to stare into the mirror for very long, stare at pictures for very long.
I know I am ugly, no one else will tell me Ofcourse because why would they? But there are just certain things you can tell by the mannerisms of people when you bring up the subject, and also just the way you’ve been treated in life in comparison to people who are beautiful and interesting. I don’t talk about this much, save maybe the men I’ve managed to keep around for some semblance of time in my life. I am the woman they like to ****, not the one they want to go down with, start a family with, hell, even post pictures with. I let these men crawl over me and onto me, just so I can feel good about myself for a little bit, but it usually just makes me feel worse because in the end they never really want me. I’m so sweet and I’m so nice, and I’m so cool. But things would never work with me.
I know what I am, and maybe my brain is just broken. Maybe my brain really does hate me. But I can’t decide what’s worse, being stuck seeing something that isn’t true and never being able to alter that, or it being true. Either way, I’ll never like myself. We’ve talked about it in counseling and I say it non chalantly but (at first I said I hate myself but then my brain retracted this) I really don’t like myself that much. I’m not happy. Im not happy with myself, with the way I look, and I settle and make a pathetic fool of myself for these people who just don’t ******* matter.
I’ve made (insert name of the man I’ve spent a year of no commitment with) this great friend in my head who will stick through everything but he is not that. He is not that. You knew what this was when it started and you knew what it be if you continued with him, because you saw the red flags in him, and yet you continued anyway. And now he’s in my house. I can’t sleep alone again. I cry every day. My anxiety is awful. I compare myself constantly to other women because of how he reacts to them.
I’ve let myself become all of this. And so on top of not feeling good or pretty or enough. I feel weak. I feel paper thin, like cheap wet dry wall you can stick your finger through.
Not like mama, who is strong, strong like titanium bones that are also weather resistant and just never break. There are days I wish I were like her, days where I could be alone and tell him to *******. But then, how would I measure that I am enough?
I am tired, I am tired of being tired. There are so many signs that I have to ******* hug myself right now, but I am stubborn and I am ******* tired of having these moments of hugging myself. I don’t want to anymore; I am stomping on the ground, Why can’t I have someone!!!!
I feel like life is scolding me, like I am making this about myself, and I should just listen. You know those moments where you yell and yell about something you lost only to find out that it was in your back pocket, something like that but with life.
I wish I knew how to love myself, is the point somehow in all of this. I wish he would leave already. I keep telling myself I wish he would **** someone else. But he’s already done that. Listen to me. He’s already done that. He did it in my house, for months, behind my back. And here I am, still. So I don’t think that will change anything. But why even care now, why even keep tabs on who he likes and doesn’t like? Because he will stop ******* you? It’s not even special, and he doesn’t even kiss you on the lips, or look at you. He doesn’t love you, and all you will find in him is pain, pain and more time that you could have spent on yourself again. When will I ever learn? When.
