Disclaimer/// Dear family members please don’t worry, not related to me… 😂❤️
I hope your day started with a smile. Mine began with a “why” and rather defeated sigh. I looked in the mirror, finding about 35 and a half things wrong with my figure. Half because I like one lip more than the other, I felt the tears well up, I wondered maybe I’d look alright if I just kept skipping dinner and I wanted to know why I couldn’t be a little taller, a little thinner, a little better. Why I couldn’t have a sharper nose, why I couldn’t have nicer toes, I felt my reflection burn holes into my skin like I owed it something. Better thighs, less fries, a flatter stomach, more push ups, a haircut maybe.
I flipped through magazines wondering how someone could walk in heels that tall and manage not to fall; I knew I wouldn’t last thirty seconds. Was it my feet?
Every day I woke up praying for a different face, a better body, promising myself the less I ate the more I’d be like somebody else. I cried myself to sleep hoping my eyes would wash away my very existence, eliminate my presence entirely. I didn’t want to wake up and look at another article promising lies, I was sick of everyone who told me time heals everything because it had been weeks, I was sick of being told to let it go and to forget what people said, why couldn’t anyone understand that to drown the thoughts in my head, I had to go under water, and I didn’t know how to swim.
I wanted to punch that glassy reflection I was forced to see every day, I wanted it to break in every fucking way it possibly could, I wanted it to burn along with all the judgmental stares, the ‘oh-have-you-put-on-weight’ kind of glares, I wanted to shatter my own vision in hopes that no one could ever see me again.
But life doesn’t work that way.
I’m writing down my misery to a stranger, because I can’t talk without saying “sorry” for saying a sentence that seemed too long, because I’m not really sure where I’m from, I have no idea where I belong, and where I want to go, all I’d want you to know is that your appearance doesn’t define your worth, that maybe life only gets worse.
And I understand why people don’t practice what they preach. Why people with eating disorders tell you to eat that burger, that it’s fine if it’s hard to be strong but eventually, all they want is for you to never land where they’ve reached.
Because all unhappy people have a tale to tell, a story they want you to learn from rather than live, a story they wish someone would have told them.