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#selfloathing
I walk into rooms with a shadow behind. Not cast by the light, but born in my mind. A smile on my face, rehearsed, and precise.. yet, somehow, I fractured the warmth into ice. They laughed, then it slows, then silence descends like I’ve bent the air out of shape once again. It’s not what I say or maybe it is – just something about me that sinks all the bliss. The joy was so loud before I appeared.now the moment is quieter, haunted, and weird. They shift in their seats. They look to the door. I wonder what damage I’ve done this time more. Why do I do this? God, I don’t know. I reach out for closeness, then watch it let go. It’s a pattern, a rhythm, a cruel little loop. I bring in my storm, then retreat from the group. I loathe this part of me, bitter and tight… The way I extinguish the candles of night. I don’t want to be this; this echo, this end. but shame is a hunter that wears my own skin. And the more that I fight it, the louder it gets in. And I note the growth of self-loathing for the hurt I impose. But maybe, I hope, there’s more to this pain… than being just the cloud, the darkness, the rain. Maybe the party was never quite whole, and I’m just a mirror too cracked to console. Still I stay, I wait, try not to fall. Though some days, I vanished inside it all. And even if healing is slow and unsure, I’ll keep showing up… Just a little bit more mature.
0
Mar 27
Mar 27, 2026 at 3:10 PM UTC
the weight I bring.
They said, pick one mask. Not the strange one. Not the loud one. Not the soft, trembling one that cries at commercials and laughs at funerals. So I tried on the versions of me hanging like uniforms in a thrift store of expectations. This one is cool— it comes with ripped jeans, practiced eye-rolls, a playlist of songs I don’t even like. This one is pretty— it comes with smaller bites, smaller words, smaller dreams. This one is strong— it comes with clenched fists, swallowed feelings, a spine made of steel and rust. I walk the halls in borrowed skin, rehearsing lines someone else wrote for me. “People like us don’t do that.” “People like you shouldn’t say that.” “People like you are supposed to…” Their sentences are cages, and I keep decorating the bars like that makes it freedom. I laugh when they laugh, choke when they cheer. Every compliment feels like a nail through my palm— “Now you’re finally getting it.” Getting what? The more I fit in, the less I recognize the echo of my own thoughts. I scroll past my reflection in the black glass of my screen and don’t stop. I have become a rumor about myself— whispered in hashtags, tagged in roles I never auditioned for. They clap for the stereotype wearing my face, but no one knows the understudy who stayed home. Some nights I peel off the day’s costume and there is nothing underneath but silence— raw, shivering silence where a person should be. I traded my voice for belonging, and all I got was a chorus of strangers speaking through my mouth. How do you escape from a prison you helped to build? How do you confess you’ve been missing while standing right in front of everyone? I lie awake and rehearse a different kind of courage— not louder, not prettier, not stronger— just real. One day I will walk outside wearing only what I actually feel. They will call it weird, too much, not enough. And for the first time, their words will bruise but not define me. I will meet my own eyes in the mirror and know: this is not the version they ordered. This is the person I refused to lose to make them comfortable. If that makes me the wrong kind of everything— so be it. At least at last I’m mine.
0
Mar 18
Mar 18, 2026 at 2:33 PM UTC
borrowed s k i n
They said, pick one mask. Not the strange one. Not the loud one. Not the soft, trembling one that cries at commercials and laughs at funerals. So I tried on the versions of me hanging like uniforms in a thrift store of expectations. This one is cool— it comes with ripped jeans, practiced eye-rolls, a playlist of songs I don’t even like. This one is pretty— it comes with smaller bites, smaller words, smaller dreams. This one is strong— it comes with clenched fists, swallowed feelings, a spine made of steel and rust. I walk the halls in borrowed skin, rehearsing lines someone else wrote for me. “People like us don’t do that.” “People like you shouldn’t say that.” “People like you are supposed to…” Their sentences are cages, and I keep decorating the bars like that makes it freedom. I laugh when they laugh, choke when they cheer. Every compliment feels like a nail through my palm— “Now you’re finally getting it.” Getting what? The more I fit in, the less I recognize the echo of my own thoughts. I scroll past my reflection in the black glass of my screen and don’t stop. I have become a rumor about myself— whispered in hashtags, tagged in roles I never auditioned for. They clap for the stereotype wearing my face, but no one knows the understudy who stayed home. Some nights I peel off the day’s costume and there is nothing underneath but silence— raw, shivering silence where a person should be. I traded my voice for belonging, and all I got was a chorus of strangers speaking through my mouth. How do you escape from a prison you helped to build? How do you confess you’ve been missing while standing right in front of everyone? I lie awake and rehearse a different kind of courage— not louder, not prettier, not stronger— just real. One day I will walk outside wearing only what I actually feel. They will call it weird, too much, not enough. And for the first time, their words will bruise but not define me. I will meet my own eyes in the mirror and know: this is not the version they ordered. This is the person I refused to lose to make them comfortable. If that makes me the wrong kind of everything— so be it. At least at last I’m mine.
Continue reading...
98
I can’t feel any warmth in my blood anymore The mirror gliding along my skin reflects only my ugliness And the outline of my fingertips has begun to dissolve It’s all just unbearably, and eternally painful But strangely, I’m still gasping for salvation
0
Mar 8
Mar 8, 2026 at 12:05 PM UTC
Stupor
I try being kinder to myself Forgiving of my imperfections Each step echoes through eternity Taken in wrong direction Even when road is hard Life pushes me around Landing smack on my bottom Find a way to rise off of the ground An ankle deep puddle of shame surrounding Deepening every day Soaking down each opportunity Until too drowned to stay It's a puzzle in the solving Existing hard and I want to know why Sometimes one needs little bit of help Let go of the anchors not letting them fly Simply being not good enough Searching for signs Future bliss Remind me the reasons not to give up It would be so much easier than this
0
Dec 13, 2025
Dec 13, 2025 at 6:25 AM UTC
Simply Being
each person reeks a persistent smell woody or floral, pleasant or foul, strong or weak, it's what you are. so if you tell me I smell good, why do flies still roam around? even if I spray perfume or hush them away. They are still stuck into my skin, feeding from the stench I cannot smell. And so I scratch and scratch, ripping my skin off so the smell could fade into the iron scent of my blood I tear my insides more and more until flesh comes out, until my body spills, and the smell blurs. But all that does is attract more flies
0
Nov 9, 2025
Nov 9, 2025 at 6:06 AM UTC
The Flies
I hate myself. ah . . . . here we are again. What happened to you? Making progress? Yes. Those footprints are six feet deep. But here, they're always covered by the snow. But again, what did the dead man do when the turning became the snake that circles me? Again, I think nothing. Feel; but bleeding, Leave; but needing, Grieve; but heeding, Real; but feeling; but leaving; but grieve. Sickened heart, by this lie, quit falling, again n again, for beauty that's infected. How many times will it take for the disease to take you, or you gain immunity?)
0
Oct 19, 2025
Oct 19, 2025 at 5:04 AM UTC
The Immunity
I know you don't wanna talk to me and that's fine. I've just been wondering if you're finally okay after all this time. But you have to believe me I was always on your side. When I finally got him to confess, a part of me died inside. And that day I left you as you cried. I was late for the case worker who brushed what I said aside. I wanted to apologise, but you have every right to cut me out of your life. But I want you to know I was always on your side.
0
Sep 27, 2025
Sep 27, 2025 at 6:06 PM UTC
I'm sorry, I just wish we could talk
I’m a walking insult. I’m a piece of **** I’m a ******* mistake.
 No, that felt too dignifying.
 Is that more than what I deserve?
 Did that make you laugh? Your jokes describe me too well. 
I nod with every letter said. 
I feel my face flush scarlet
 So ashamed I change —
 real defining clue of myself —
 like a snake skin sheds. I want to be dehumanised. 
I want to be violated 
I want them to forget me. 
I want to be an empty vessel. 
I want to slit my throat. 
I don’t want your warm affection. Now my dreams echo hollow. Every night, my head against the pillow, revising every morsel I swallowed, hoping there is no tomorrow —
 As I walk to join the hanging bodies in the gallows. They laugh and frolic in the sun with their slim waists. You say I’m kind. Considerate,
 but I just want your validation. 
I’m a narcissist to the core. 
Hope I’m not the bile in your throat, 
or the acid that burns your hollow heart. 
Did that make you laugh?
0
May 12, 2025
May 12, 2025 at 1:47 AM UTC
Did that make you laugh?
I’d tear myself limb from limb If only you would love me more. Broken bones for you to nurse, A fragile body to be saved. To make myself smaller and smaller Until I was finally gone. Maybe if I wasn’t here, You’d truly pity me.
0
Apr 10, 2025
Apr 10, 2025 at 11:46 PM UTC
Take All of Me
You need to stop treating yourself like this Eating yourself like this Gnawing at muscle and bone Just to feel at home You need to stop treating yourself like this Cheating yourself like this Quitting before the game begins Just to wallow in your sins You need to stop treating yourself like this Beating yourself like this Smashing your head into walls Just to silence the noise of it all You need to stop treating yourself like this. Defeating yourself like this Betting on a losing dog Just to hide in the fog You need to stop treating yourself like this Deleting yourself like this Editing your words before you speak Just to hide the feelings underneath You need to stop treating yourself like this Repeating yourself like this Echoing past excuses and mistakes Just to avoid the time healing takes You need to stop treating yourself like this Completing yourself like this Assuming this is how your story ends Just to never make amends You cause your own downfall You make yourself doubtful But you can change your tune Let the light in and bloom
0
Mar 7, 2025
Mar 7, 2025 at 9:40 PM UTC
186/32 "Like This"
I’m losing myself every day. I’m tired of fighting these battles. I want to be fought for for once. Sometimes I wonder if anyone Is glad to have me in their life. What’s so wrong with me?
0
Mar 7, 2025
Mar 7, 2025 at 7:21 PM UTC
37/6 "What’s So Wrong With Me"
‘Love yourself,’ they say. How can I reach that goal when I am the monster under my own bed? I inspire panic and hesitation in myself daily. How can I love someone I’ve feared for so long?
0
Mar 7, 2025
Mar 7, 2025 at 7:18 PM UTC
37/5 "Love Yourself"
who are you to dare stare back at me on the loneliest of my days? Don't pretend to be good company. I'm alone because you are unlovable. who are you to dare cry with me on the hardest night I've ever lived through? Don't pretend to care about my feelings. I'm crying because you are unloving. who are you to shatter beneath my rage on the eve of my mind's utter ruin? Don't pretend to be in control. I've struck the silver glass because you are undeserving.
0
Jun 7, 2024
Jun 7, 2024 at 5:32 PM UTC
mirror
Sitting in my room my mind floods with memories Indulging in negativity occasionally feels good, yes please My mental health has gone SO south these past several years I like to drown my pain in multiple beers That doesn't always work for me I just absorb as much pain as I can as if it'll turn into positivity All I want is to feel like I matter But truthfully I feel like a bother A bother, a burden; take your pick Sadly, I won't get the validation I need because I'm not a "chick" In my experience nobody cares about a guy's feelings Men with feelings are defined as weaklings It's a tragedy that has lead to some sad events throughout history Put your hands up if you agree. Men should be able to share their emotions too I started this poem because I was feeling blue This website helps me get that validation I desperately crave. It is definitely one of my fave Writing out my feelings helps me cope It gives me just a little bit of hope That someday I'll find that special someone Someone that'll accept my shattered heart and mend it Mend it and erase all that negative ****
0
Apr 22, 2024
Apr 22, 2024 at 5:32 AM UTC
Mend my shattered heart
She’s waking, and she’s walking out the door She leaves the glimmer of the red-brick, In 2009, the first. In 2023, the last. The blood is on her hands, and she can feel a white blanket envelop her. It is the first sensation she has felt in years. Mercurial and self-loathing are those tears. No more release in them. Only release in that. In this prison cell are mirrors; they glare back at her with such a hideous, emaciated, mortifying Look on her face. What she hears seems to salivate, She, a ****** mouth of a teeth-grinder. Sore. Did they see her face as the telephone rang? The woman clothed in sun weeps with fury at her, with a mask of complete, deadly, damning indifference. It is so, so sorry; waves of anguished apologies flooded its lungs as he strangled it. The blade is for you, my dear girl. As they came together, they came apart. A hand, gloved in red;something in the way. It’s a knell for this lady in red, and, oh! How she has been waiting so! The troops of glares and deafening silence she cannot bear as she races towards them; they stampede over her. She does not battle. She does not cry. She does not raise a finger. She simply lets the curtains fall. Ophelia drowns.
0
Feb 9, 2024
Feb 9, 2024 at 6:27 AM UTC
Modern Ophelia.
Self-loathing, Self-hatred, Guilt, Pain, I'll never be a good enough partner, I'm failing right out of the gate. I let you down, I see it in your eyes, I breached that trust you had in me, And didnt live up to my own ideals, A moment of weakness, A moment of idleness, Looping in my brain, **** this tormentable guilt! You say I get stuck in my own thinking, Like a bird that's fallen into tar, But thinking back, If my brain is the tar, I need to clean it some dawn. Please let this storm pass, Let the thunder die down in my mind Let the lightning strikes fade, For all that's holy, May you forgive my trespasses still, Let me be the man you said I could be, And fly free, Above the ooze and filth.
0
Jun 21, 2023
Jun 21, 2023 at 11:28 AM UTC
Mess-up
Thousands of tiny little stars Hundreds of beating little hearts Mountain mice can't fight the village lion But the spark can light a thousand rivers that open the threshold for a billion oceans covered in nothing but shame and disgust. Here lies a broken body, here falls another opinion ,the grave of a trillion lies
0
Nov 1, 2021
Nov 1, 2021 at 5:19 PM UTC
Breakdown of Human
i take what i love about myself and wear it as a badge of honor, but at night i stare at the ceiling and list all the things i hate. i stamp it in a journal and time-date it, bookmark the page i left off on and i put the leather bound away. once a year i visit what i hate about myself and find that as long as the feelings are inked on a page and not weighing heavy on my chest, there isn’t much to hate at all.
0
May 16, 2021
May 16, 2021 at 10:29 PM UTC
guilty conscious
I don't recognize this face in the mirror, this didn't use to be me, what am I? How far away am I? All the damage I've seen, all the harm I've done, maybe I deserve to be uncertain. All the life has been ****** out of me, I might've done this to myself, I could be held accountable. I try to be smart enough to show what's inside, I don't believe I am, no words seem to be enough to show what I mean. Is this all just selfish of me? Narcissism, is it what this is all about? Not everything is about me, why do I feel all the pain? Can anyone tell me what this is all about? I'm scared, hopeless, and alone. Every sentence might be the last.
0
Apr 19, 2021
Apr 19, 2021 at 7:34 PM UTC
Nothing Good to Feel