January 10th, 2017by MyCalamity
For as long as I can remember, I’ve hated who I am. Even more so in the last several years. I have done things that are unforgivable, and I have to live with them. The people who I affected have to deal with my mistakes, my choices, and my carelessness for the rest off their lives.
My past is a constant reminder of the mistake that I am, the disgusting creature that I’ve become. My past, always there, forcing me ti relive memories that kill me me everytime I see them.
I hate how I look. I realize beauty is a social construct, and people say it is “in the eye of the beholder”. But that’s just it. I don’t meet the criteria, and therefore I’m ugly to everyone’s standards. I hate that such a hideous face, body and soul such as mine could have been conceived.
I’m afraid that I may hurt other. I’m always looking out for the ways I might affect others, because no one deserves the pain I’ve caused. I don’t deserve life. I haven’t payed my dues, and for me to continue living is a disgrace to their existence.
So far, I’ve held on to the sliver of redemption that I may someday possess. But until then, I suffer.