Musings on Life from a Dead Girl

A day in my head

Open my eyes
The world flurries around me
That familiar pain in my chest starts up again as I struggle to pull myself out of the comfort and safety that only sleep can give me
I sit up in bed
My eyes are still blurry from sleep but the panic has already started
My mind attacks itself
I already want to go back to sleep
My brain tells me to pray or I will wreck my car so I pray
I pray until I get it right. I never can seem to get it right.
I get dressed
I do this as many times as it takes until I'm satisfied but usually, I do this until I have to leave, I am never happy with how I look
Too short
Too fat
Too ugly
I've given up on makeup because, at this point, it feels more like pretending I will never be pretty
I drive to work
Some days I cry when people get too close to my car or honk at me. I pray off and on so that I don't die. Mostly to appease my brain
I pull into the parking lot
I promised myself I would get out of this town the second I could. I didn't. I call myself a failure before I go inside. Every. Single. Fucking. Day.
I work
I might as well be a motherfucking tax collector in ancient Jerusalem. I hate myself.
Lunch
I tell myself I don't deserve to eat because I am too fat and too stupid. I go into the bathroom and cry. I come back out and fake a smile for the two women who share my cave. They don't know that I am dying. How could they? I am an amazing liar.
I drive home
I pray more and by the time I'm back home I'm exhausted.
Go in
My family is all home but no one greets me I eat alone. I shower and go back to my bed. It's not even 7 o fucking clock. A voice calls my name. They lecture me for not looking happy enough so I fake a smile until I get back in my room.
Pray
I pray for forgiveness for not being good enough. I pray tomorrow will be better. It never is.
Sleep.