Confessions

I don't think I'm all that well.

I was raised to believe that if I didn't smile, I wasn't happy. I was never told that, but when I didn't smile, my parents always asked me if I were upset.
So I've never been sure of how I've felt. In a way, I've always felt that if I weren't happy, if there was nothing to smile about and if I couldn't smile, then I wasn't happy.
But am I? Am I happy, even when I can't smile?
Am I ever really happy?

I take too many pills.

I've always taken pills. It started out as regular vitamins, Just normal supplements to make sure I got all the nutrition I needed.
I never liked milk, so when my parents stopped forcing it down my throat, I began taking calcium supplements.
I'm sure I've always felt pain. But when I hit puberty, every pain became too much pain. Not just cramps, but headaches too.
When the headaches became too much, I began taking stronger painkillers.
Now, I take strong painkillers for everything but hangovers.

I take too many pills.

I take pills to regulate my blood, because it's not red enough.
I take pills for pain, which seems to have become more frequent.
Two months ago, I took pills to make me feel better. I didn't feel pain, but I took painkillers anyways.
I crossed a line I knew I had. I neglected my morals to satisfy a silly urge to feel calm.
To feel nothing.
I felt things I didn't want to feel, and I took them away.
And then I felt so much more. The feelings I didn't want to feel disappeared, but were replaced by four times as many.
I didn't want to feel anything at all, but suddenly, I felt too much.

I know my limits.

I knew what I had done was wrong. I regretted it and repented and I know now that it will never want to do it again.
But I can't guarantee myself anything. I can't make myself any promises. Because I don't know myself well enough.
I don't even know if I'm happy. I might not be smiling all the time, not even now, but that doesn't have to mean that I'm not happy.

That's the true dilemma.

I took pills to feel nothing, but if I can't know if I feel happy, then; do I feel anything at all?
I don't think the pills do anything to me. They take away physical pain, but only half of it. My mind takes the rest, if not more. You could give me a placebo, and the pain would be gone.
But I can't cheat myself. If I could, I would. If I could make myself believe that water contained a codeine, I'd drink more of it and believe it had an effect.
But I can't cheat myself. I can't fool myself like that.

I hate my body.

It's a classic line, but I really do. I don't hate how it looks, not at all. If you'd asked me 5 years ago, I could've given you a detailed, long list of things about my body I wanted to change, but now, I can't.
I like my body. I like its flaws and imperfections. Because I'm aware of them. I know they're there, and I know that I could change them or get rid of them, but I don't want to.
I know now, that my true insecurity lies within myself, not my body.
And yet, I hate my body. Not for how it looks, but for how it works.
Many people are jealous of my body. The way I can eat practically everything and virtually anything and not gain that much weight. The way that my metabolism burns off carbs as if I were constantly on a treadmill running. The way that I lose weight so fast, without doing anything.

But I hate it.

I hate how I need to eat every two hours. I hate how my blood sugar get too low if I don't eat good things and drink water all the time. I hate how I get hungry after I eat. I hate how I can't eat chocolate without getting tired. I hate how I get a headache from not eating for 3 hours. I hate how I get a headache from eating healthy things.

I don't hate my body for how it looks.
I hate my body for how it works.

It's my body that smiles.
My body is why I take pills.
My body was the reason for my insecurities when I was younger.

But I can't blame my body for my current insecurities.
It's not the reason why I'm writing this.

My body is the root to all evil, but it's the reason for why I'm alive.