Status: I'm not giving up on myself, yet. I just need to rant.
I Dislike Myself
May 22, 2012
Everytime I look in the mirror, it's like I'm looking at some creature from another planet. My hair is a mess, my eyes are un even, my nose weird looking. My lips are lop sided. My teeth are crooked and always have a yellowish tint to them, no matter how much I brush them. I can't get rid of the black heads and pimples and blemishes on my face no matter how hard a scrub, pop, or squeeze.
My cheeks are chubby, and my neck is chunky. My shoulders slump too much and my arms are fat and really hairy. My boobs sag too low and my nipples are too big. My stomach will never be flat enough, and there's this mole between my boobs that bugs me when I wear a bra or swim suit. My thighs touch too much and my butt isn't round enough. No matter how many squats I do, no matter how much I run, my cellulite will never go away.
My stretch marks are very noticeable compared to my pale skin which never tans and I can never seem to get rid of all the hair, but when I do, I get razor burn, and infected hairs where my cellulite is on the back of my thighs. My ankles are fat and my feet are short and stubby. My toes are stumpy and always have hair on the knuckle of them that never goes away. My nails are always dirty, and no matter how much I try, they won't stay clean and manicured.
My eyebrows are too bushy and never stay in the right shape and I can't ever seem to get my make-up just right. My armpits are stained and my boobs don't fit right in bras. Jeans never seem to fit right because of my love handles and muffin top. No matter how much I suck my stomach in. I always look fat in everything I wear, even when I feel skinny, I look in the mirror and all I see is fat, fat, fat. It never goes away.
I can't eat healthy because healthy food is so expensive and I can't afford to buy a 6 dollar salad for every meal, so I have to settle for a dollar cheese burger, fries, and a soda. Then, I feel guilty for doing so and when I go workout, there's always mirrors, reminding me of how fat I am.
I'm five foot two and I weigh one hundred and forty-five pounds. I can't go shopping for shorts or jeans because the size goes up every time. I haven't been shopping in about a year and I've had the same jeans for that long. The only shopping I enjoy is shoe shopping because it doesn't remind me of how much weight I've been gaining.
Everyone compares me to my best friend who is skinny, tan, out going, witty, fun, dances, plays video games, and eats right all the time. She wears the prettiest clothes that I can't even consider buying because I'm broke all the time. She can cut hair and dye hair, and she can do make up perfectly. She can eat salads for every meal and run one mile a day and lose weight almost instantly.
She can keep friends around for years and all I do is fuck things up and lose friends with the blink of an eye. I speak my mind and everyone gets mad at me. I keep quiet and people think I'm depressed and a loner.
I'm dreading going back to school because I don't know if I'll be able to handle the rumors and bullying again. I'm going to start over at a new school, and try my best to make it through so I can go to college and start completely over with people that don't know me.
I know I suffer from depression, bi-polar disorder, social anxiety, and misophonia. No matter what I do or say, my parents get mad at me for it. If I stay secluded to my room for too long because I'm depressed or angry, they get mad at me and make me go to a friends' house. Or if I'm at a friends' house too long they get upset because I don't spend enough time with them.
I hate being told what to do, repetedly. It makes me mad and I can't control my heart rate because of the rage inside of me. I hate it when I'm trying to something as simple as putting the dishes away, or doing laundry and my parents tell me every step of what I'm doing, right as I'm doing it.
I don't even know what I'm doing with my life anymore. I want to go to school just to get away from my family, but I don't want to have to deal with people. I want to get a job to have money, but I'm scared to socialize with people I don't know.
I started volunteering at the animal shelter before it opens to get out of the house, and I'm doing it before hours so that I don't have to deal with anyone.
I need help. I'm too scared to bring it up with my parents because then they'll send me to a therapist, or someone to help me. But we can't afford it. They'll put me on medication that I'll forget to take a feed me lies about myself. They'll tell me to do things that are outside my comfort zone. I can never do anything because I'm scared I'll have an axiety attack.
I've had two in my life and they suck. I never want that feeling to come back.
A good song to listen to is "Therapy" by All Time Low. It speaks the truth and it hurts a lot.
"When I woke up alone, I had everything"
It's true. When you think you've finally gotten what you've wanted, no one is there with you. They've left you to swallow you're happiness and move on with life like nothing good ever happened.
"I'm a walking travesty"
You walk around, pretending to be something you're not. Like right now, I'm just being quiet, and have a small smile on my face while writing this just so my dad doesn't think anything is wrong, but all I want to do is lay in my bed for days and cry until this feeling passes.
"I think that keeping this up could be dangerous"
Keeping up this happy act is killing me, every time I smile and pretend to laugh at a joke someone makes, I want to ball up my fists, and punch them in the face. I want to scream to the world that I'm unhappy with my life and have someone run to my rescue. It's never going to happen.
"The experts say, I'm delerious"
All the therapists and such will tell you things you want to hear, when all you need is someone to rant to, not a pill to swallow to get rid of the issue. I just want someone who won't judge me to listen to me. It's so hard to find someone these days because everyone wants to talk about themselves and try and relate to your issues with their own.
"Love yourself so no one has to"
This has multiple meaning to me. It's something I want to do, force myself to do, and something I can't do because I'm no where near how I want to be. I'm anti-social, depressed, fat, ugly, weird. I pretend to have friends and have conversations in my head all day with people who aren't actually there. Because in my head, I'm the center of attention and everyone cares about what I have to say and how I feel. It's like I have people who love me, but in reality it's just me trying to be positive.
"But I'm smiling at everything"
This is going to kill me one day. I smile at everyone and every thing I can just so people don't question my mental stability. I smile at my family so they don't question why I stay in my room 90 percent of the time, not making a sound. When I'm home alone I let go, I cry and cry and cry, until I can't anymore and my throat hurts from sobbing. Then, when the front door unlocks and my family walks in, I put the smile back on my face and listen to what they have to tell me about their day and pretend I care. When in reality, I just want to lock them outside and live in seclusion.
I just want to scream to the world about my issues and how much I need help, in hopes that someone will come along and save me from my thoughts. I know it isn't going to happen because no one cares enough. My dad doesn't believe in mental illnesses unless you're mentally retarded and born with it. He won't help me. My mom will over react and my siblings will just call me an attention whore when I do reach out for help.
My cheeks are chubby, and my neck is chunky. My shoulders slump too much and my arms are fat and really hairy. My boobs sag too low and my nipples are too big. My stomach will never be flat enough, and there's this mole between my boobs that bugs me when I wear a bra or swim suit. My thighs touch too much and my butt isn't round enough. No matter how many squats I do, no matter how much I run, my cellulite will never go away.
My stretch marks are very noticeable compared to my pale skin which never tans and I can never seem to get rid of all the hair, but when I do, I get razor burn, and infected hairs where my cellulite is on the back of my thighs. My ankles are fat and my feet are short and stubby. My toes are stumpy and always have hair on the knuckle of them that never goes away. My nails are always dirty, and no matter how much I try, they won't stay clean and manicured.
My eyebrows are too bushy and never stay in the right shape and I can't ever seem to get my make-up just right. My armpits are stained and my boobs don't fit right in bras. Jeans never seem to fit right because of my love handles and muffin top. No matter how much I suck my stomach in. I always look fat in everything I wear, even when I feel skinny, I look in the mirror and all I see is fat, fat, fat. It never goes away.
I can't eat healthy because healthy food is so expensive and I can't afford to buy a 6 dollar salad for every meal, so I have to settle for a dollar cheese burger, fries, and a soda. Then, I feel guilty for doing so and when I go workout, there's always mirrors, reminding me of how fat I am.
I'm five foot two and I weigh one hundred and forty-five pounds. I can't go shopping for shorts or jeans because the size goes up every time. I haven't been shopping in about a year and I've had the same jeans for that long. The only shopping I enjoy is shoe shopping because it doesn't remind me of how much weight I've been gaining.
Everyone compares me to my best friend who is skinny, tan, out going, witty, fun, dances, plays video games, and eats right all the time. She wears the prettiest clothes that I can't even consider buying because I'm broke all the time. She can cut hair and dye hair, and she can do make up perfectly. She can eat salads for every meal and run one mile a day and lose weight almost instantly.
She can keep friends around for years and all I do is fuck things up and lose friends with the blink of an eye. I speak my mind and everyone gets mad at me. I keep quiet and people think I'm depressed and a loner.
I'm dreading going back to school because I don't know if I'll be able to handle the rumors and bullying again. I'm going to start over at a new school, and try my best to make it through so I can go to college and start completely over with people that don't know me.
I know I suffer from depression, bi-polar disorder, social anxiety, and misophonia. No matter what I do or say, my parents get mad at me for it. If I stay secluded to my room for too long because I'm depressed or angry, they get mad at me and make me go to a friends' house. Or if I'm at a friends' house too long they get upset because I don't spend enough time with them.
I hate being told what to do, repetedly. It makes me mad and I can't control my heart rate because of the rage inside of me. I hate it when I'm trying to something as simple as putting the dishes away, or doing laundry and my parents tell me every step of what I'm doing, right as I'm doing it.
I don't even know what I'm doing with my life anymore. I want to go to school just to get away from my family, but I don't want to have to deal with people. I want to get a job to have money, but I'm scared to socialize with people I don't know.
I started volunteering at the animal shelter before it opens to get out of the house, and I'm doing it before hours so that I don't have to deal with anyone.
I need help. I'm too scared to bring it up with my parents because then they'll send me to a therapist, or someone to help me. But we can't afford it. They'll put me on medication that I'll forget to take a feed me lies about myself. They'll tell me to do things that are outside my comfort zone. I can never do anything because I'm scared I'll have an axiety attack.
I've had two in my life and they suck. I never want that feeling to come back.
A good song to listen to is "Therapy" by All Time Low. It speaks the truth and it hurts a lot.
"When I woke up alone, I had everything"
It's true. When you think you've finally gotten what you've wanted, no one is there with you. They've left you to swallow you're happiness and move on with life like nothing good ever happened.
"I'm a walking travesty"
You walk around, pretending to be something you're not. Like right now, I'm just being quiet, and have a small smile on my face while writing this just so my dad doesn't think anything is wrong, but all I want to do is lay in my bed for days and cry until this feeling passes.
"I think that keeping this up could be dangerous"
Keeping up this happy act is killing me, every time I smile and pretend to laugh at a joke someone makes, I want to ball up my fists, and punch them in the face. I want to scream to the world that I'm unhappy with my life and have someone run to my rescue. It's never going to happen.
"The experts say, I'm delerious"
All the therapists and such will tell you things you want to hear, when all you need is someone to rant to, not a pill to swallow to get rid of the issue. I just want someone who won't judge me to listen to me. It's so hard to find someone these days because everyone wants to talk about themselves and try and relate to your issues with their own.
"Love yourself so no one has to"
This has multiple meaning to me. It's something I want to do, force myself to do, and something I can't do because I'm no where near how I want to be. I'm anti-social, depressed, fat, ugly, weird. I pretend to have friends and have conversations in my head all day with people who aren't actually there. Because in my head, I'm the center of attention and everyone cares about what I have to say and how I feel. It's like I have people who love me, but in reality it's just me trying to be positive.
"But I'm smiling at everything"
This is going to kill me one day. I smile at everyone and every thing I can just so people don't question my mental stability. I smile at my family so they don't question why I stay in my room 90 percent of the time, not making a sound. When I'm home alone I let go, I cry and cry and cry, until I can't anymore and my throat hurts from sobbing. Then, when the front door unlocks and my family walks in, I put the smile back on my face and listen to what they have to tell me about their day and pretend I care. When in reality, I just want to lock them outside and live in seclusion.
I just want to scream to the world about my issues and how much I need help, in hopes that someone will come along and save me from my thoughts. I know it isn't going to happen because no one cares enough. My dad doesn't believe in mental illnesses unless you're mentally retarded and born with it. He won't help me. My mom will over react and my siblings will just call me an attention whore when I do reach out for help.