I am not a beautiful mature girl like my eldest sister. I’m not rational and nihlistic like my older brother. I’m not brimming with positive enthustistic attitude by my second older sister. I am the ‘problem child’ since the very beginning I’ve been this way. Nightmares that meant I slept in parents bed till I was almost ten. Then I got over that  and got into my head that something magical, an adventure, would find me and when it didnt i decided this world wasnt enough, 11 years old and contemplating suicide…but then I saw the beauty of this world. It might not be new and original but it wasn’t worth giving up on…. and the body disphoria came and for five years of my life I covered up from head to toe because I had lots of moles and freckles on my body. I hated  my face. My nose is weird and my chin stick s out to far, my jaw too square, my eyes are asymmetric. I can’t look at my own reflection at all. Then 2 years ago I got anxiety and IBS which which is sometime s extremely painful and debilitating. And now a pain and spread from my feet to the whole of my body and in less than a year the veins in my body have started breaking and enlarging. I can’t look at any part of myself. Not even my hands. I feel like my body is a decomposing prison and my depression gets worse with every glimpse of my skin.
I’m constantly in pain but its the look that upsets me the most. Why? Why do I have to be beautiful to be happy with myself. I can sing and draw and I have a loving family so why can’t I cope?
1 comment
Only thing I can say is do the best with what you have to have a good life.
youll find some way to be happy