Explanations

To anyone reading this, my only request is that you read with an open mind. I know for some of you, this may be difficult, but try. Have you ever looked at yourself and thought that you looked good? Have you ever thought that you deserved to be happy? Have you ever looked at yourself, seen what you truly are, and been pleased?

 For some of you, the answer is yes. Some may have never really considered it. For me, the answer is simple. No. I’ve looked at myself and thought that on some days I looked decent. I’ve never thought I deserved to be happy, and the reason for this is given in the answer to the last question. I’ve looked at myself, deeply and intently, and I hated what I saw. I know what I really am, and no, I’m not happy with it.

 What do I see? In the physical sense, I see the body that is too short; the thighs that are too huge, the wide hips, the small breasts, the face that I would love to destroy in the same way as I destroyed the mirror…by putting my fist through it. The only thing I even remotely like are my eyes. In another sense, I see the girl that is a perfectionist, never satisfied with her work, the one that longs for affection and praise, but always falls short (no pun intended), the girl that hates herself because she never has been, and never will be, good enough.

 So now I ask you, all of you: what do you see? Not when you look at me, but when you look at yourself. Someone once asked me, and not too long ago, why I couldn’t eat the cake I had at my party. I couldn’t tell them the truth, but I’m almost certain it was there in my eyes. I couldn’t tell them that I would rather swallow glass than have that delicious cake contaminate my body. To all of you that say this is a way of seeking attention, you couldn’t be more wrong.

Do I display the scars that I’ve created with the blade in my room? Do I walk around in skin-tight clothing, demanding that everyone admire me? No. I deliberately hide everything. The only ones who truly know why I’m this way are the others like me. And even they don’t completely understand. Every story is different, but the ending is the same regardless.

Relationships are almost impossible, and I’m not just talking about romantic ones. Those I am around every day have noticed my alienation, my distance, and those I am closest to will try to break through the walls every now and then. The one I am with in the romantic sense, however, is the one I feel most sorry for. How can I expect him to understand? How can I expect him to endure all the things that a relationship with me will put him through?

Should I even try? I don’t know. I will try, however, because when it’s all said and done, I am very selfish. I admit it. I want to be with someone, to have them hold me and tell me that everything will be okay. I want to be able to have someone kiss me and feel like I deserved to be loved. Is that so much to ask? In some ways, I suppose it is. Still, I’ll hold my tongue, keep my head high and smile through this painted mask of cheerfulness. And I’ll keep fighting until it is no longer a mask or a dream, but a reality.