Entries tagged with "self hate"
I’m 21 years old and I’ve never had a boyfriend. I am funny, charming, smart, and have a pretty face… but I am overweight, and I always have been. I don’t have unsightly fat rolls or anything, but I do have very large hips, legs, arms, and an unnaturally huge ass. I’ve been dieting and working out for as long as I can remember, but to no avail. I fear that sooner or later, I’ll have to just accept that this is how I am… but as of now, I just can’t. I hate everything about my body, and no one understands, because none of my friends or family are overweight. Guys never want to date me… they only want to have sex with me, in secret. I do my best to stay positive but at night, when I’m laying in bed alone, I can’t help but wonder, ‘Why me? Why was I born like this, when my best friends were born perfect and beautiful? Why aren’t there any good men out there that will see me for who I am inside, instead of the size of my body? When is it going to be MY turn to be happy?’
No one knows how depressed and lonely I truly am, and I hate that I can’t talk to anyone about it. The few times I’ve tried, all anyone has to say is, “Be patient, you’ll find someone when you least expect it.” Thanks for trying, but that is honestly the last thing I want to hear. I’m very quickly losing faith.
I’m 21 years old and I’ve never had a boyfriend. I am funny, charming, smart, and have a pretty face… but I am overweight, and I always have been. I don’t have unsightly fat rolls or anything, but I do have very large hips, legs, arms, and an unnaturally huge ass. I’ve been dieting and working out for as long as I can remember, but to no avail. I fear that sooner or later, I’ll have to just accept that this is how I am… but as of now, I just can’t. I hate everything about my body, and no one understands, because none of my friends or family are overweight. Guys never want to date me… they only want to have sex with me, in secret. I do my best to stay positive but at night, when I’m laying in bed alone, I can’t help but wonder, ‘Why me? Why was I born like this, when my best friends were born perfect and beautiful? Why aren’t there any good men out there that will see me for who I am inside, instead of the size of my body? When is it going to be MY turn to be happy?’
No one knows how depressed and lonely I truly am, and I hate that I can’t talk to anyone about it. The few times I’ve tried, all anyone has to say is, “Be patient, you’ll find someone when you least expect it.” Thanks for trying, but that is honestly the last thing I want to hear. I’m very quickly losing faith.
I hate everything I do; it was all to get into college. Now that I’m accepted into the college of my choice, I do not know what to do or where to start.
When I graduated from high school, I hadn’t kissed anyone yet. Well, kind of. I had been kissed, but not since I was 13, and both times that had happened I’d literally just stood there and had one planted on me. So, I made up a story that I had had a thing with my best male friend, and I told my closest girl friends, and my sister.
Things change pretty quickly. I stopped wearing makeup because I felt so fucking fake and I hated myself for feeling like I had to paint my face every day. I lost my braces, and 20 pounds, got a pretty nice rack all of the sudden, and I discovered hair product. I got my lip pierced, and somewhere in there my confidence increased about 824%. When I got to college, the guys were everywhere, and for the first time in my life, they wanted me. I made some mistakes at first. I was so shocked to have someone interested in me that I didn’t really pay attention to who they were. I dated a lot of guys in the first year and a half of college, and in the meantime became someone I could finally accept. Those two things were mostly exclusive operations, by the way. I did not become a better person because of the guys I dated, that’s for sure. I did, however, learn a lot from all of them. Eventually, that best male friend of mine transferred to my school. Not long after, we started dating. The whole time, I was paranoid that he a find out about my lie in high school. It was a stupid concern, really, but it plagued my mind sometimes. He was the first guy to ever break up with me. I’m not willing to say he broke my heart, but I definitely gave him my heart, and when he handed it back, it was chipped at minimum.
I’m ashamed that anyone thinks he was my first kiss. Because of our 6+ years of history, most people in my life think of him as the most serious guy I’ve been with so far in my short life.
To those who haven’t been kissed yet, be patient. If you’re 16 or 36, be patient. I wish so much that I had been patient instead of creating this web of confusion based on a story that I sometimes forget myself isn’t true. The worst consequence is that because of my lie my former boyfriend has far more of a space and a hold on that time of my life than I ever should have given him.
I am twenty years old and have my whole life ahead of me. To most I live a pretty good life. There is nothing particularly wrong in my life, I have good parents, college is paid for, there is a roof over my head, I have a good job and a great boyfriend. My problem? I lie, I lie about everything. I make up horrible stories about my life and pass them off as the truth. I say I have an abusive mother, that my parents kicked me out, that I have cancer, that I once had an addiction to meth, that I had a twin brother that died… all of them lies. Why? I feel that is the life I deserve. All those things add up to excuses for myself, give me reason to be as depressed as I am. I know depression can be a clinical disease, something you can get help and medication for. But I hate it I have no reason in life to be depressed. So I make up these lies, I am lying to myself and the ones I love. I hate myself for it. How do I make it stop? That is beyond me I have taken it too far.
My best friend is EVERYTHING I want to be. He has the hottest girlfriend, he’s a super athlete(he committed to play division 1 lacrosse his this year), everyone loves him, he has a six pack, and his future looks very bright. I’m a single, decent lacrosse player, no six-pack, some people like me, and I have clue what the hell I am going to do with my life. I hate myself because of all of this and am worried about what I am going to do.
I’m sitting here wondering why I do the things I do. I got drunk with some friends of mine and wound up sitting in a chair at the tattoo parlor. Now, every time I look down and see porky pig looking back up at me I hate myself a little more.
Yesterday I cried.
Today I felt like it a few times, but the night is young and I’m still alone, still out of control, and I’m not going to wash my hands of the possibility of tears just yet…
I couldn’t help but feel as I said goodbye to my dad that I was also saying I’m sorry.
I’m sorry for what i’ve done and for what I’m going to do.
I’m sorry that the spirit of his little girl, his oldest little girl, the one he loves so much, is slowly but surely fading.
Being happy is more work now. it doesn’t come as naturally as it did before. it all depends on me and my self control.
What I look like, or what I perceive myself to look like, rather.
It’s hard to be happy when what you do and who you are is never quite good enough.
I’m letting them down because they don’t understand.
They don’t understand how their little girl whom they love so much could refuse to love herself.
They don’t understand how someone, their baby, whom they think is the most beautiful baby in the world, could be unable to see herself as such.
They don’t understand that when I politely refuse a breakfast or a lunch date that it’s the calories that I don’t want, not their company.
My dad doesn’t understand that when I flinch when he hugs me it’s because I don’t want him to feel what’s left of me, not because I don’t need his touch, because there’s nothing I want more than for him to hold me as tight as he possibly can and tell me that it’s All going to be ok. That he’ll fix it, fix me, but deep down I know that no one can take this from me besides myself.
I am my own disease and my own cure.
I am my own worst enemy and my only lifeline.
“Eating disorder not otherwise specified”
Anorexic with bulimic tendencies.
Bulimic with anorexic tendencies.
Whatever the fuck you wanna call it.
5 years and counting.
1 pages