![]() I had fallen in love with gore movies ( Final Destination, Saw and Psycho ), sad songs, and whatever depressing thing I could think of. I wasn’t going to feel pain anymore, I just wasn’t. That’s where I started shutting the door on my emotions. But I guess I’d have to deal with it now. You know, I realized, I don’t really care anymore! I’m not pretty enough, I’m not good enough. A month later, I found out I had not made it into the play, when I got home, I told her the news and said “It doesn’t matter. My mom found ways to comfort me, but they lasted for only a limited time. I told her about how a fellow classmate once let me drink out of his water jug, and I was nervous because I expected him to be frightened and disgusted after I would do so. I talked to my mom about it, and just cried. I had totally forgotten what peace had felt like, and was never calm. The voices were haunting me every minute of my life, I wasn’t still. The last time I did, I auditioned for a play. And for the longest time in my life, I stopped crying. Later on, not only did my insecurities grow more and more, but I also learned to disregard my emotions. And though I was a strong Christian, and I knew those whispers were Satan’s lies, I’d believe them because to me, they sounded so true. I could never be real, never be loved, never be accepted. I began viewing myself as a monster, no longer a soul, A robot. I was always cautious of how I moved, spoke and acted because I thought a single mistake could scare people away. And those aren’t even half of the things I’d hear from day to day. “You’re worthless.”, “You’re fat.”, “You’re a monster.” they’d say. What used to lie inside my head turned into whispers, and from whispers- voices. I’d do everything to stay away from crowded places so people wouldn’t be disgusted whenever I’d pass by. That didn’t matter to me at all, but as time passed by, I got sicker and sicker. Those girls who could say the most hurtful things yet still be the Belle of the ball. ![]() Lucky were the ones who never had anything to feel insecure about, who’d go around and get everything they wanted anywhere, anytime. Something only a few of us grow out of or overcome, as the rest just have to deal with it. As the insecurities kept growing, rushing in at me, at first, I thought it was a part of life. Before doing so, I’d have to pray I’d actually look okay. Seeing myself in the mirror was nerve-wracking. Love wasn’t what it was to me no more, and words were NEVER meant. Several months ago, ( and I do mean SEVERAL ) happiness was a myth.
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