stars and whispers // minsung

Chapter Three

Dear diary,

I just wanted to talk, let my feelings out for once.

I know I'm only fifteen and that if someone heard this they'd take it as a joke.

But I don't care as long as I can understand it.

I hate myself.

Everyday that I woke up, I immediately wish that I hadn't.

And the situation just gets worse.

It has reached a point where I've tried everything.

Attempting to protect myself from reality, I have resorted to cover my mirrors with journal paper.

This way, I can avoid looking at my reflection.

Also, I keep my lights off so that the windows don't inadvertely reflect my face.

The cuts on my disgusting body are worse  and the pain is becoming... Well, really bad.

I can feel the throbbing sensation with every movement and the sight of blood makes me feel nauseous.

I can't even remember how I did it.

I'm sick of this.

I've tried everything.

I've had blonde hair, brown, black, and even fucking blue hair.

I've worn platforms and been my normal height.

I've been 35kg and I've been 50.

I've talked in Korean and talked in English.

I've changed.

And still, nobody wants me.

Why I'm I so fucking disgusting?

I look like a pig.

An ugly boy cosplaying a pretty one.

Fuck, I hate when my hands shake like this.

One day, I'll kill myself.

I don't care.

It's all I'm asking for.