can i be somebody else for all the times i hate myself?
I’m so fucking sick. I’m tired of myself. I’m disgusted.
I’d give anything to be someone else. I’m tired of her and her needs, all the memories attached to this person I’m supposed to be. She’s not a fifteen year old with a future ahead of her, she’s this tired old woman who can barely breathe.
I don’t want this person anymore. I don’t want her weight, her hair colour, her eye colour, her skin tone, her outlook or personality or ‘talents’ and especially not her flaws.
I want her to go away. I want her to disappear, fade into nothingness. If she can’t become what I want, she’ll become nothing.
I don’t necessarily think she’s ugly, but that’s a good word to try to express it to others. Her face in the mirror is a blank. No features, no characteristics. There can’t be anything aesthetically pleasing where there is nothing. Her body seems broken somehow, everything at the wrong angle. It seems inadequate. It seems dangerous somehow. I don’t understand how anyone could see something in her besides a pale block of clay, ready to be molded into something less inhuman.
I don’t know how to bury this girl. I could take away half her weight and cut her hair short and colour it. I could tan her skin like an animal hide in the sun until fine and brown. I could put lenses over her eyes, changing the shade. I could dress her up and break her down, a doll that I own. I hate her for not becoming someone I recognize.
But no matter how I change her it is still the same blank face and dangerous body. I want her gone. I want to not be attached to this thing that is supposed to be me.
I don’t know who I really am. Even my name seems to not be mine. When people say my name, asking for my attention, it’s hard to recognize they’re talking to me. They don’t add up - me, reflection, name - no matter how hard I try to connect them. I don’t know what my real name is or what I actually look like, but I’m sure if someone showed me I’d recognize her. I’m sure.
This can’t be me.
I’m so fucking sick. I’m tired of myself. I’m disgusted.
I’d give anything to be someone else. I’m tired of her and her needs, all the memories attached to this person I’m supposed to be. She’s not a fifteen year old with a future ahead of her, she’s this tired old woman who can barely breathe.
I don’t want this person anymore. I don’t want her weight, her hair colour, her eye colour, her skin tone, her outlook or personality or ‘talents’ and especially not her flaws.
I want her to go away. I want her to disappear, fade into nothingness. If she can’t become what I want, she’ll become nothing.
I don’t necessarily think she’s ugly, but that’s a good word to try to express it to others. Her face in the mirror is a blank. No features, no characteristics. There can’t be anything aesthetically pleasing where there is nothing. Her body seems broken somehow, everything at the wrong angle. It seems inadequate. It seems dangerous somehow. I don’t understand how anyone could see something in her besides a pale block of clay, ready to be molded into something less inhuman.
I don’t know how to bury this girl. I could take away half her weight and cut her hair short and colour it. I could tan her skin like an animal hide in the sun until fine and brown. I could put lenses over her eyes, changing the shade. I could dress her up and break her down, a doll that I own. I hate her for not becoming someone I recognize.
But no matter how I change her it is still the same blank face and dangerous body. I want her gone. I want to not be attached to this thing that is supposed to be me.
I don’t know who I really am. Even my name seems to not be mine. When people say my name, asking for my attention, it’s hard to recognize they’re talking to me. They don’t add up - me, reflection, name - no matter how hard I try to connect them. I don’t know what my real name is or what I actually look like, but I’m sure if someone showed me I’d recognize her. I’m sure.
This can’t be me.
Hey Love. Facecrack won't let me message you yet, so I'll c/p what I wrote, here.
ReplyDeleteHey Love. Read your blog.
First off, I love you. <3 Secondly, your 'friends' are cunts and that's super idiotic. Like, is pisses me the fuck off. Thirdly, your mom is a fucking cunt and your therapist is right that you need help [and there isn't anything wrong with that <3]
Also, you're gorgeous. I know you don't believe me. I completely understand you feeling tired. You don't feel fifteen. You feel like you've lived enough for multiple people, right? It's been a struggle and you're feeling like maybe it's time to give up, since you feel finished. Done. Tired. But I'm telling you this isn't your life, and the 'real You' - meaning the 'You' that feels like yourself to you - will be there, you just have to wait. I promise you that. And I think you're fucking AMAZING and lovely and fantastic and you mean everything to me. <3 I love you so much. I wish words could express it, I really do. <333333333