Writings

Pretty

A/N: This was last night's creation. It's sad and I don't want to change it. If all I post is sad things then so be it. I guess that's who I am. So enjoy it I guess.

~Samm ^~^

What is pretty? A flower? A bird? What about a person? What makes someone pretty? A smile? A laugh? Their looks? Their personality? You can see the beauty in others. But can you see it in yourself? Can you look in a mirror and see your beauty? Can you call yourself pretty? Can you flash a believable smile? Does that false joy shine in your eyes? Or do they look dead? Can you mask what you truly feel? Can you hide the truth? The real question: how long? How long can you put up a brave, happy front? How long can you hide the truth? How long can you mask your feelings? Who are you hiding them from? A friend? The family? The public? Have you started to believe the lie you live? I think I have. I don't see "pretty" and my name in the same sentence. They aren't even on the same radar, the same scale. The two words don't work well together. They don't share a meaning. Pretty doesn't like to associate with me. The word doesn't apply to me. It applies to all my friends. I'm the exception to the rule. Pretty is used to describe everyone but me. I often wonder if I know the true meaning of pretty. It's a basic word but it means a lot to some people. To me it means everyone that's not me. It includes looks and personality. It doesn't have an age limit. The only thing it excludes is me. I don't feel joy in my appearance. I don't find confidence in my personality. I don't find any good adjectives about me. I see only flaws, mistakes. I can only see bad. I only find sadness. I don't see a light in me. I only see the endless abyss of darkness. I don't see anything good about me. I can't find the window that opened when the door slammed in my face. I don't see love when I look at myself. I only see this deep hatred. A hatred for who I am, what I was, and who I'll become. I just see this dark, looming cloud of hate, despair, and loathing. I see exhaustion and failure; regret and insecurity. I see selfishness and idiocy. I see laziness and disappointment. I see a lack of talent and a lack of true joy. I see years of practice gone to waste. I see nothing but the worst. An emotional child with no possible future. I see the worst person to ever live. I see a baby trapped in a woman's body. I see a wretched soul and a sick heart. I see a broken mind and a filthy body. I see a little girl that's been broken so many times she doesn't know what being whole feels like. I see a girl that doesn't know love but thinks she's in it.  I see a girl who doesn't understand but thinks and pretends that she does. I just see a broken, battered, little girl unworthy of life. I wish people would realize that "pretty" isn't me. And it never will me. I can't make that happen. I'll never be remotely close to pretty. I'll always be just okay. Even at my most confident, which isn't much, I'm just okay. I'll never compare to my friends or anyone really. And I don't want anyone to tell meany different because no matter what they say, it won't change the way I truly see myself. I didn't write this to get people telling me I'm wrong. I wrote this because this is how I truly feel. This is how I truly see myself and more. I'm sorry but it's true. I just don't see how I could relate to pretty. I can see beauty in everything but me. I've never been able to see it in me. I suppose I'll never see it. Never find it. I just don't know if I'll ever know the true meaning of pretty. I'm sorry.

A/N: This is sad but it's true. I'm sorry to say that it is. But whatever. I'm sorry. Just here.

~Samm ^~^