Personal, Perspectives

Season 2: Episode 5

I finally realized who I am. I’m fucking Homer Simpson. I’m the pathetic loser that everyone loves to hear about. I’m only popular because people love to hear my life go into despair much like the way the Kardashians or Bad Girls Club get so many views – for having drama. My life is always so fucking full of drama. It’s sickening and I think you’re disappointed that I’m like this. I’m not what you expected. I’m disappointed that I’m like this. I guess I’ve just been turning a blind eye to who I am all this time. It’s cringe worthy. And I don’t even know why anyone would want to be around someone like me. I wish I could understand it. I wish people would stop lying to me. Or I wish I could trust people a little more. Or I wish I could stop lying if I’m the one lying all along. I wish I didnt value honesty so much. I don’t know what I want.

Woke up in the middle of the night with the same thoughts going through my head over and over. It’s 4am already? I woke up at 3 still feeling the tequila I had for dinner.

I’m such a Debbie Downer. We went out for dinner with friends and of course the conversation ended up being serious and sad or intense or whatever. I can’t just be normal and have friendly conversation for the sake of a good night. I’m a fucking nightmare. I hate looking at myself in the mirror. I’m so awkward. I feel like a huge disappointment. I’m not sure if it’s the hormones making me feel this way or I’ve just finally found a way to vocalize my self hatred. Maybe the hate has come to a point now where it’s so strong it needs to be written down. I feel like a piece of shit and I’m just waiting for everyone to realize it.

I feel like I don’t have much to offer to anyone. I’m not a catch. I don’t meet people’s expectations. I’m not who they think I am. I have no idea how I convinced myself that being alive would be better. I’d rather just die. My mom hates me. My dad has no idea yet. My sister’s disappointed in me. Everyone else is a fucking liar. Suicide is selfish? Well cool. Everyone is selfish. And if it’s extremely selfish then that’s one more thing to add to my lack of fucking character.

Anytime I converse with someone and play it back in my head or redo it in a mirror – I truly don’t understand how or why people like it. It’s just confusing to me. I don’t even understand why I’m liked or why I’m worth lying to. And I know I sound like I’m just crying for attention and I’m just begging someone to feel sorry for me. I really don’t know how to stop making people feel a certain way about me. I can’t control it. And it’s not my intention to get attention like that.

I’m just speaking my mind. Completely raw and unedited. Truly from the bottom of my heart everything that I’ve said here has been on my mind for years. Over 15 years. I came to the conclusion when I was 10 years old that I wasn’t a good looking person. I’m just average at best and I learned to accept that. When people started telling me otherwise it would confuse me because I’ve seen myself in the mirror and I know what I’m looking at. And I know I’m being honest with myself. So I guess it just felt like everyone else must be lying.

Which of course is completely absurd. Majority rules. The popular consensus is the right one.  Or is it? Do people just feel sorry for me that they feel like they need to compensate by complimenting me? Am I really what people say I am? Should what people say about me even matter? Especially if I can’t trust them? Should I even trust myself? I just feel so lost and miserable

My chest has been pounding.  My stomach has been bubbling. My intestines feel like they’ve been mixed up in a mixing bowl. My lungs feel like they’re collapsing. I feel like I’m falling apart. My back fucking kills me. I’m breaking out in acne.

I hate my fucking skin. I hate the scars on my belly. I hate that I’m the fucking reason they’re there. I hate my body shape. I hate the shape and size of my boobs. I hate my short straight eyelashes. I hate my crusty lips. I hate my nose. I hate my crooked smile. I hate my droopy right eye. I hate how my hair looks. I hate it straight and I hate it curly. I hate it every way. I hate the length of it. I hate the bumps on my legs. I hate my ingrowns. I hate how tall I am. I hate that I don’t have a lot of my own things. I hate that I still live at home. I hate that I’m not done school. I hate that I’m a stupid dumb bitch at work, and in life basically. I hate that I can’t figure out what I want to do the rest of my life.  I hate that my GPA has suffered from me fucking around for so many years and now everything is a mess because I’m a fuck up. I hate that I started dating so young. I hate that I let heartbreak affect me so much. I hate that I obsessed over the stupidest things and none of it has helped me progress. I hate how behind I am. I hate that I don’t swim anymore. I hate that I can’t even afford to buy a decent swimsuit. I hate that I ruined my sister’s relationship with my mother along with my own. I hate how careless and forgetful I am and how I fucking overthink about the dumbest things. I hate the humiliating-ly low tolerance for alcohol I have. I hate how paranoid I get when I’m a certain level of high. I hate how I am sober. I hate that I have all these friends but still feel like I have no one. I hate how lonely and empty I feel inside. It makes me sick to my stomach.

What are friends? Nothing really because they all leave when shit gets tough anyway. That’s life. You conquer life by yourself. You’re born alone. You die alone. And you conquer life’s problems alone. I feel like people check in on me just to see if there’s any new drama in my life that they can be let in on. Maybe I created that environment for myself. Maybe the way I’ve made friends with people is completely humiliating and degrading myself which they find entertaining and uplifting for themselves. That they’re not just sorry sons of bitches like me. Someone who just sulks all fucking day like some fucking loser.

Loser. I don’t think I’ve won anything. I’m not good at anything. I can’t even take a good photo. People love to say I’m beautiful but can’t seem to get it on camera because I’m so fucking awkward. And I bet it’s disappointing when they realize they were just being nice and I’m really not as good looking as they make me out to be. I’m really nothing special. I never was and never will be. I’m just a fly on the wall waiting to be swatted by someone I’m probably annoying.

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