Insecurity Will be The End of Me

Ugliness is all I see anymore.
It's not that I ever thought I
was pretty. Or could be. I
just once thought I was
average.

Now I don't think I've got even
a shot of getting there.

There's nothing about myself I
like anymore other than how great
I am at playing pretend and
covering pain in pink lip gloss,
fake eyelashes, and a gallon of
foundation and concealer and
blush and powder and contouring
until my face stops being my face
until I am satisfied that I look
enough like something I'm not.

No one could even convince me
anymore that I'm worth anything.
All I do is self-pity and
destroy others with "I look
like shit" so they shower me
with repetitive complements
that make me feel worse.

I should not force them into
dealing with me. No one deserves
to deal with me. Not my own worst
enemy, who is someone who will
never ever ever get away from
me.







I haven't been full in two months.
I want to feel empty. My body already
is covered with enough adipose to drown
me. Fat. Fat. Fat. Worthless fat. All I
see. Ugly.

Despite drinking water and eating mostly
apple juice, nuts, and dry cereal, I have
gained two pounds. I didn't think I
could become more disgusting. I was wrong,
as usual. Fat and stupid. And ugly. And
always complaining about who I am despite
it all being totally my fault.

I want to tear myself into little pieces.
I want the breeze to take me away to
another life that I don't deserve
to live. The thing is, I know I'm
too big for the wind to take hold
of me. Not even a fucking hurricane.

The only thing that can move me is
everything- into tears. I cry and cry
and demand to be held and noticed.

My face is colonized by bacteria that
won't be washed away. Mascara stains
that won't fade. A love that turned
away. No one has ever stayed.

They all walk away. Who would want to
be near me?







My face has started to become even
paler. The bruises beneath my eyes
have become darker. I'm becoming
so sick of myself.

My stomach screams to be fed. My
skin demand to be cut. I demand
to stop being so fucked-up.

I hate me. I hate me. I hate me. I hate me. I hate me.
I hate me. I hate me. I hate me. I hate me. I hate me.
I hate me. I hate me. I hate me. I hate me. I hate me.
I hate me. I hate me. I hate me. I hate me. I hate me.
I hate me. I hate me. I hate me. I hate me. I hate me.
I hate me. I hate me. I hate me. I hate me. I hate me.

Insecurity
will be
the end
of me.