A Confession

I hate my smile,
And my crooked teeth
That look too sharp.
I hate my laugh,
And the way I howl,
Like a hyena hearing a joke.
I hate my walk,
And the way I shuffle,
Like a penguin in the cold.
I hate my weight,
And how everything I wear,
Makes me feel like a balloon.
I hate my nose,
And how it’s large and obtrusive,
Everywhere I look.
I hate my eyes,
And the way they squint,
When I smile or laugh.
I hate my hands,
And the way my fingers,
Resemble little sausages.
I hate my legs,
And how I’m reminded of the phrase,
“Short and stout,”
I hate my hair,
And that one strand,
That’s always tickling me
I hate my arms,
And the way skin stretches,
Flexes over fat.
I hate my shoulders,
And the bright red stretch mark
On my right.
I hate my back,
And the large brown
Café au lait spot on my left.
I hate my thighs,
And that I’m the reason
They’re so scarred.
I hate my heart,
And the fact that I know
I don’t understand love.
I hate my brain,
And the way it doesn’t understand,
How to communicate.
I hate my lungs,
And the way they scream,
When I want to breathe.
I hate my stomach,
And the way it clenches tight
When I’m scared or alone.
I hate myself,
And my inability to explain it,
Or escape it.

I hate when I cry,
And when everything hurts
Because I don’t know why.
I hate when I hurt,
And when I lie,
Because I really do want help.
I hate when I feel undeserving,
And when it’s all consuming,
Because it’s probably not true.
I hate when I laugh,
And when I feel guilty,
Because I should like laughing.

I hate when I write,
And when it feels like nothing,
Because writing is everything.
I hate when I forget,
And it’s something important,
Because I hurt people.
I hate when I hurt people,
And that I do it a lot,
Because I don’t mean to.
I hate when I feel guilty,
And when it’s unwarranted,
Because it makes me want to scream.
I hate when I try,
And that it’s never enough,
Because I don’t know how to try harder.
I hate when I give up,
And that I do it a lot,
Because I don’t think I can do it.
I hate when I’m alone,
And that I choose to be,
Because relationships scare me.

I hate that I hate so much,
And that I know there’s more,
Because this can’t be healthy.

I hate everything about me,
And I can’t stop,
Because the world has suffocated me.
I hate that I can’t breathe,
And that I want to,
Because I’m falling.
I hate that I can’t laugh,
And that I want to,
Because nothing’s funny.
I hate that I can’t triumph,
And that I don’t know how,
Because it’s my dream.
I hate that I can’t concentrate,
And that when I can, it’s on nothing,
Because it’s damaging.
I hate that I can’t figure it out,
And that I know I never will,
Because it’s so confusing.
I hate that I can’t love,
And that I secretly want to,
Because who could love me?
I hate that I can’t be the best,
And that I want to be,
Because there’s always somebody better.
I hate that I can’t see beauty in me,
And that I feel ugly,
Because I want to know what pretty is.

I hate that I want things,
And that they’re unreachable,
Because it’s what everybody already has.
I hate that I want to be famous,
And that I want to be great,
Because I’ll never be either.
I hate that I want to feel desire,
And that I don’t even know what it is,
Because it looks beautiful.
I hate that I want to be wanted,
And that I know nobody wants me,
Because unwanted is lonely.
I hate that I want to be smart,
And that I’m too lazy to try,
Because I’ve failed too many times.
I hate that I want to cry,
And that I want to cry with joy,
Because I cry enough already.
I hate that I want to wake up,
And that I want to be by somebody,
Because waking up is a nightmare.
I hate that I want to dream,
And that I never stop,
Because reality is harsh.