I keep causing myself conflict. Self-hatred and acceptance makes me believe in the fact that I will be alone for the rest of my life. However, every once in a while, that concept loses grasp and I slip back in my make believe world of rainbows and acceptance and start to think like I used to, “when I have that…” You will NEVER have that.
You’re ugly: irreversibly so. You’re not fun to have around. People can barely stand you for more than a few hours. At least I’ve stopped letting my heart feel like it’s been ripped out whenever I think that. You can only beat down your soul for so long before it surrenders and freezes into some self-protectant creature, which is very similar to your “heart” freezing inside your body. No tears, no tears. I refuse. Cried my self dry over “Prayers for Bobby” at three this morning, and I swear, no more.
I sometimes have those moments during which I wonder why I was born at all. What purpose do I serve? I am kind of just a blob on the map; a blemish on an otherwise green and blue masterpiece. I’m glad the spec is too small for anyone to see. Me, a