"Babe!
-"Long time no see, I've missed you so much. Hey, I notice something different about you. Maybe those chocolates never left you?" (
She touches her disgustingly flat stomach, making me aware that I've gained weight)
"Hehehe,"
I smile with that forced laugh that tries to hide the anger and low self-esteem.
"Yes, you know how life is."
There was no life, much less a good one. All there was were a couple of hypocrites talking; she didn't miss me, and my life was not good at all.
The insecurity.
It's ironic when someone comments on another's physical appearance in a witty way and the whole room bursts into laughter, but not for the person pointed out.
Sometimes I wish those words were punches because at least punches are visible, but these words hurt more because they don't wound the body, they wound the soul.
I have a crack inside me, and that crack is damn insecurity, the fear of making mistakes, the fear of being judged for who I am.
I struggle to decide between going out and staying home when I'm invited. In the end, I make up excuses not to go and then lament not having the social life I wish for. Dealing with insecurity is a constant battle, wanting to do so many things but feeling so incapable of achieving them.
At this stage of my life, I always found support in those willing to make me feel less, to make me feel ugly, to make me feel excluded, to make me feel insecure even about myself.
My mother tries to cheer me up, but I just lie to hide what I really feel.
I'm an ordinary girl, but dealing with my insecurities has made me feel completely alone in the midst of a crowd.
YOU ARE READING
One week before my suicide (In progress)
Teen FictionI want to tell you the story of Carla and her last week before committing suicide. "One Week Before My Suicide" is a powerful first-person narrative that delves into the emotional struggles of Carla Pérez over the course of a week. Through Carla's c...
