There are certain little things I kind of hate about myself.
Like the extra skin on my arms. The extra fat on my stomach, thighs and calves. My chubby face and red cheeks. My thin hair that never cooperates. The stretch marks on my thighs and around my butt. My depressed moods. My anxious flares. My bad attitude. My small chest. My big nose. My cracked lips with skin peeling off. My manly hands. The scars on my wrist.
I hate it. I hate all of it.
I refuse to believe that anyone could love me with all of these things. But you do. You always say you do. Why?
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PoetryTake a look inside my mind. Into my rants, vents, strange poems and random insights. My mind is a scary place, so enter with caution. WARNING: I tend to get a little... Dark. If at any time you find anything I've written to be triggering, please sto...
