Sorry

I'm sorry, that I'm not the conventional boy,
I try to make up with it for my humour,
Anything other than my physical appearance.
I'm sorry I don't love myself.

I hope you know how much I've tried to change myself,
The hours in that fucking gym, the hurt,
The aching, only to recover a week later.
And I still hate it. It's useless.

I feel it's selfish, to be able to love another but not even myself. I feel bad. And I'm sorry I'm protective, insecure, in spite of how I look.

I've just seen other boys, with their flat chests and stomachs, and their perfect straight hips and I worry.
And that's so fucking bad to say but yes.
I feel I'm not attractive. And I'm scared.
I am jealous. More than jealous. I'd die for it.
Genuinley. I feel I'm not enough. I feel I can be better. But I don't think my body will hurt enough to  even allow it.

Even at my skinniest, the struggles were the same. And I hope you can accept this problem. I love you. I'm sorry.

I feel disgusting. I can't even be shirtless on my own.
Not even in my own home. Not around anyone. But you. Because you're somehow comfortable with it.
This is why I love you. Even though I doubt.
I'm trying to change. I promise.