I don't feel pretty.
Someone would tell me, "Hey, at least that guy was handsome, and he liked you"
No, he didn't. He hit on my best friend when I didn't give him the attention he wanted.
I shouldn't rely on what other people tell me.
I should be able to just look at myself and be content.
But the way people who are "interested" in me treat me, makes me feel gross. Because I'm gross.
I'm gross...
I don't think it helps that I gained a bunch of weight again.
I feel every part of me move.
I hate it.
My body and my face.
Do I like my mind?
Sometimes.
Only sometimes.
What else is there?...
Last night I tried to find something redeemable but the mental illness started seeping in.
The show I was watching had people contemplate and attempt suicide.
My mind wondered.
It is a spiral.
No one I like, likes me.
The ones who do treat me disgustingly.
My body is a fat sack of cottage cheese.
My mind is tainted.
I hate my face.
My friends are vanishing.
✨️suicide✨️
YOU ARE READING
Finding Joy
PoetryI never spent time seeking joy. I only spent time making a bed comfortable enough in sadness to bare it. Now, I'll see and work at finding joy. This is a continuation of "We Are the Normal Ones: Memoirs of a Fallen Human".
