You, You and your deafening loudness. You have always found a way to seep into my sunshine. To add gloom and envy to joy. You are a thief of time. Constantly pickpocketing any grain of gladness I have left. I have tried breathing and silence and yoga and embracing you. I have come to believe that you will always occupy a corner of me. But I cannot make peace with the thought of your full-time residence. I despise the idea that I am married to misery. And yet here I am, writing of you again.
When I look into her eyes, I see everything I have always wanted to be. I see a girl who is admired and loved by all who happen to be in her presence. She happens to be a girl who knows what she wants and gets what she pleases without having to ask.
How can I measure up to this girl when everything I am is plain and simple. How can we be in the same room when her features shine a light on everything that I do not have.
I can not love myself when I have learned that I am worth nothing compared to her. She knows that, and I do too.
They only call me pretty when I'm with her anyway, so what do I do when I'm alone? Nothing but pray that I have the courage to change everything I am as time goes on.
i want to be better. i want to be content just as i am. i want to be able to exhale, relax and shut out the voices that tell me otherwise. but they overpower me.
"my stomach looks good today", "my legs aren't huge", "i'm not ugly", i try to say as my hands tell a different story. grabbing at fat and skin, trying to find any imperfection to prove me wrong. and this is where the confusion starts: looking in the mirror.
what do i look like? how should i feel? am i actually fat? am i deluded to think i might not be? i have no idea the answer to any of those questions and millions just like them scream at me. every minute. every day.
if i am fat, should i be trying to lose weight? or should i try to accept how i look?
i try to be better, to cope, but i don't know which voice is right. i don't know who to listen to. and i'm trapped in this in between.
it's ******* exhausting so someone just tell me what to do
I needed to get these thoughts out of my head and onto a page
The mirror is my enemy, its' reflection makes me cry; For what I see, looking back at me, is a Monster in disguise. ~ I avoid them like the plague, I'd like to take them down; 'Cause every time, I look inside, my heart falls to the ground. ~ A false view of myself, is all I ever see; For every time, I pass one by, depression visits me. ~ I'd like to shatter all of them, but it wouldn't change a thing; So I will still avoid them, I hate everything I see.
This is about a disorder I have...BDD. It stands for...Body Dysmorphic Disorder. I can't see what I truly look like, for my reflection is distorted.
Trapped in a mindset of fantasy. Cradling beliefs with no foundation in reality. Alone in a mind of oil. Staining all who brave my touch. Familiar faces soaked in anxiety. They stare with memories I long to forget. These glossy eyes that fear closing. Moving. Shifting. Seeing. Worlds will fall. Perceptions will alter. These words are caught in my throat. Festering.
How do I say Hello? How do I keep the conversation going? Are they staring at me because they know I'm not normal? Can they see my disfigured soul hiding beneath this skin? This deformed skin... Do they notice that I am an imposter? Do they see how I react alien to how they do? How I second guess each expression?
Words fall from my eyes without allowance. The connection isn't there. I stare down. Drowning them with every glance. Words fall. Flooding. Making oceans of unspoken phrases. Needs. They breathe me in. All the words I've never spoken. They drown in my delusions. And run away like mad men. To a world, I can't seem to be a part of.
Trapped in a mindset of fantasy. Oil drowns me and dilutes my words. Taking away who I am.
Left over from the fear and pain, now the results across and all over my arms, Oh, how on days that are the coldest, these scars have kept me warm.
Lines and lines of everything left unsaid, From the deepest of emotions in turmoil, to the tears that soaked my bed. A single blade to help me speak, to help me fight with insanity, Who is it again now, that I am trying to free?
Maybe one day I won't have so many, So many I cannot count, Whoever is looking back in the mirror, is not me in a single doubt.