Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Mar 2014
I remember the first time I felt beatiful
It was 1:36 am in the morning and I was still trying to fall into that dark relapse we call sleep.
Tumblr led to to oodles of words saying "you are beautiful and we love you"
and it was all a lie.
I am fat, boisterous, *****, unloveable, spineless, tricky, rude, dumb, mean, weak and awful human being.
As my mother puts it best "You ****."
No matter how many times my man would hug me kiss and tell me I am beautiful i would always face the need to tell him to shut up
You could tell all 273 pouds of me to go eat a salad and I wouldn't.
rather I would sulk in those words and add them to my jar of hate for myself and such vile, searing syllables would string together in such colaliton that always included the words FAT and ****.
and trusting, foolish me would believe it.
yet I would still deny any and all complements bestowed upon me by those who claim to care and cherish me.
I would systematically shut down every kiss, smile, phrase, and action that would benefit my non existent self confidence.
I say sorry after every opinion I state.
Someone raised me to believe that my ugly words were a disgrace.
My unsightly thoughts that protruded form my mind that was encased in this fat, unhealthy body of mine were a disgrace and needed to apologized for.
Somewhere along the line I was guided to believe I was ugly, forign, and unwanted.
And everyone was told the same message yet they all still scream to the nights of the internet and the literature that they, that you, that I am pretty.
Yet there I would stand, with a knife at hand, waiting for the bravery to strive me to carve my flesh because I thought he didn't love all of me. because they didn't care for the total package I so desparatly tried to sell them.
The first time I felt beautiful wasn't because I finally realized I was always such.
It was because I saw it was okay to love myself without feeling bad.
At 1:36 am there's no one to apologize to.
And for being worth it-- I am not sorry.
Written by
Joanne Berger
359
 
Please log in to view and add comments on poems