Rants

Stick the scissors in, pull the razor out. Take the razor and pull it slowly across my hip. Three small slashes on the right, four on the left. Four on the left side of my “hourglass” figure, four on the right. Next I sprayed a little bit of hairspray on them so I could see them stand out against my pale skin. They sting. I could have done worse. These will go away in a week or two. I heal fast. I look in the mirror and see a 16 year old girl with no makeup on, long straight blonde hair, and blue eyes that pop out against her red and puffy bloodshot eyes. Her nose is running and her cheeks are all blotchy from crying hard. She feels she’s not good enough. She feels she’s not pretty enough. Not skinny enough. About an hour before she made the cuts she was on her knees in front of the toilet sticking a long eye shadow stick down her throat and bringing up her lunch. She wants to be skinnier, she wants a tinier figure, she just wants to be beautiful. She doesn’t know why boys track her down in public and ask for her number. Why? Don’t they see what she looks like? Are they trying to be funny? She’s too fat, too pale, and too tall. Why do they like her? Why do they call her beautiful and sexy and everything else? Where is this beautiful girl they think she is? She sure doesn’t see her when she looks in the mirror. She can’t find her. So she hurts herself. She makes marks no one will ever see since no one will ever “be” with her. They won’t see what she’s done to her so-called “Beautiful” Body. Never. No one will ever touch her again. Too many have hurt her, and she won’t let herself be hurt again. She’s got her third eye looking out for her. Sure, she’ll talk to those boys who mean nothing to her, but she will never, ever let anyone touch her “Beautiful” Body ever again.

Where’s my beauty? Where’s my “sexiness”? I can’t see it, how can you? When I look in the mirror all I see is ugly trying to be beautiful, but never achieving that goal. I’m not perfect, nor do I want to be, but I do want to be beautiful. I’m not. It’s a nice compliment, but I truly believe I’m not. I say I won’t let another boy touch me, but “touch” isn’t a bad meaning. “Touch” means I won’t let another boy in, I won’t give him a chance to hurt me, so I’m not going to let him know me. There is one boy who I have very strong feelings for, but I’m afraid to let him in sometimes. I know people always get hurt, but can’t I try and prevent it? I just don’t want to be seen as vulnerable to him, and let him see that he can easily hurt me. He’s not that kind of guy, at least I hope not, but still.

I just don’t see what you see.