Some days.

if i cant be beautiful by ~Hidden-target on deviantART

I wake up, and I don't want to look in the mirror.
Maybe it's because I was bullied by my nephew when I was younger, but
honestly, that seems a little silly.

Ever since I turned six and got into grade one,
I've never been told I look pretty.

It's strange.
Sometimes, I find myself standing in the middle of a crowd,
and one day I would feel strong and confident,
just from my voice. From what I was saying.

Like in 200 Pounds Beauty, I never once thought of myself as gorgeous.
The only thing I took pride in was my voice.
Maybe not for singing, but more for speaking.
I could talk. About anything, anywhere, and I was definitely not afraid of what I was saying, but one day,
suddenly...
I looked around me, and it seemed like...
what I was saying from my feelings
was just a bunch of BS. That I was the only one who liked to hear what I was saying.
That what I was saying, and how I said it, was making everyone hate me.
And because I was fat and ugly, no one appreciated a single word I was saying.

So I closed my lips.
Locked them tight.
All I say now, are the words that others want to hear.
That I'm ugly. So I should only say pretty words.
Never the ugly words.

I know lots of women have felt this way,
Of course,
but I've felt it since I could think properly.
I've felt it since my father left my family for a good 10 years.
I've felt it since I started making friends.
I've felt it since I woke up.
For some reason, I feel that no matter what I say to myself
no matter what someone says to me
(Like: "You're not ugly." or "Everyone feels like that at least once in their lives." or "That's normal.")
I want to say, "Fuck you. You have no idea how much I've had to go through to get myself to think that every single time I'm with you."

Emma was important to me, but at the same time, I had this never-ending jealousy over her. She was pretty, smart, and boys liked her. She could wear nice clothes because she had the money and the weight.
Sora is important to me, but sometimes I can't be honest with her because of this ugly side of me. The side of me that says that, no matter how pretty my clothes are, she would look better in them. That I'm just an ugly person in pretty clothes. That she's smarter and stronger, and she says things that matter to people. That people might not want to hear, but sticks with them forever. That she fills the void in people's lives, the empty space that is grey and boring.

Then, all of a sudden, I look at myself.
And the self-hatred is hurled up.
The sour, gross, smelly, fat feeling I have for myself.
Like the old pot of fish my mom made for me last month, mouldy and smelly and fat.
It's only going to be thrown out, but no one has the time to.
I'm only going to be thrown away, but no one has the time to.
I'm not going anywhere, but the garbage because I am useless.

And, yes, a lot of people know I have once thought of suicide,
but that feelings still haunts me.
My heart isn't convinced, but my feelings of that time still haunt me.
Because the self-hatred is still there.



I don't have to exist outside by ~Hidden-target on deviantART
All I need is right here.
If I stay by myself, I can prolong these thoughts.
I can push them away. Along with these feelings.
I can distract myself until I'm bored and do something stupid.
Make myself laugh.
I don't have to listen to anyone else.
I don't have to think that they're thinking ugly things about me.

I constantly think,
What have I done to be here?
To be stuck in a old house, poor, trapped in this body, dumb, crazy, boring,
Unloved.

I want to swear at myself.
Make the words cut deeper.
So I don't have to hurt.

I was born unfortunate.
So many people tell me,
I can change it for my
self, but
That
is
a
lie.

Some things can't be changed.

うみ