My insecurities

My body is my biggest insecurity because no matter how I look at it, it always looks the same. I skip lunch too frequently, minimizing my portions for other meals, and exercise daily. I endure loose fitting clothing, jokes about how small I am, and hunger pains. But most of all, I endure the loud voice in my head telling me I’m too big.

Another insecurity I have is my sexual preference. So what if I like girls and guys, we are all different and who I want to fuck doesn’t matter to anyone but me. I constantly live with the burden of living in the closet, afraid to share a part of my identity with the wrong person.

I absolutely hate how my emotions are all scrambled up. How I can’t tell the difference between happy and sad and angry and loving and playful and any other feeling. How I don’t understand what I feel everyday but perfectly understand how others feel. A little thing called Empathy is my boggest crutch in life as that is the only way I understand what any of the mess inside of me means.

I hate how much I hate myself. I hate that I only see my flaws and am too blind to see how much I am worth. All I hear from myself is “too fat, worthless, unimportant, disappointmen all around.” I ignore all the good things my friends say about me, how I light up their day, how pretty my smile is, how welcome I made them feel when we first met. They continue to try to life me up and carry me, but I stubbornly fight them on it. And I hate that.

I despise my inability to seek help because I am too scared to ask for it. Because I feel guilty for needing help. How I can’t bring myself open up to someone about what is killing me from the inside. How I hurt myself so I don’t hurt others because what’s inside of me is too powerful to keep contained.