Lost.I'm lost. Lost in a sea of my thoughts. Thoughts that consume my every second of ever minute of my day. I can never escape them. Nothing I do is right. I'm always haunted by the thoughts that control me. They hold me back, telling me 'you can't do it' or 'you will never be good enough'. Everything comes with a stinging slap from my subconscious.
I feel like I'm breaking apart from the inside out. My parents are so disappointed in me. Nothing I can do makes them proud. I can always do better than what I've done. Sometimes I wish I never was born...relishing the thought that their lives would be so much easier and maybe they would love each other more if I was gone. Maybe if I just left...they could be happy. I'd rather be dead than displease them.
Every day, I look in the mirror and see what I hate the most. Myself. Everything about my appearance disgusts me. My face, my eyes, my hair, my shoulders, my collarbone, my ribs, my sides, my scars, and my legs. They are wrong. I hate them. I can't look at them without getting frustrated or depressed. I just want to rip myself apart. Cut away all the imperfections. Maybe I could be beautiful...but...i can't. I can't be beautiful. I'm not allowed to be.
The worst part of my issue is compliments. I can't stand them. When I receive a compliment, I look at myself and hate myself more. I don't see what they see and assume they are lying to me out of pity. I think my own boyfriend of 7 months is only with me because he feels bad. Nothing he says registers in my messed up complex of a personality. Everything is moot. I can't accept compliments without arguing or staring at my ugly self for hours and crying for cure to this torture.
People assume I am fun...happy...normal when they meet me. I put on my mask and preform an act. Like a puppet on a long string. Controlled by the desire to be liked and loved. When I make friends, we grow to trust each other. They think they know me, and I think I know them. But as time goes on, I start to run out of smiles and laughs. My inner demons paw at the walls. They want out, to be put on display. To mock me. As people realize what I am, they leave me. To dive deeper into my own personal hell I have created.
I'm trapped, and I'll never get out. Trapped. Forever.
Cinnamonhearts 16-17, F 2 Responses 0 Jun 27, 2013