My Random Book

Insecurities... Tear Us Apart

When I starved my body I tasted the sweetest corrupt ecstasy of feeling thin and beautiful. Hip bones stuck, showing through skin, and it was attractive to have a gap between my thighs and make every curvature of my figure visible. The poisonous compliments infiltrated my mind and those words were the kind of drugs that nobody warns you about. This cruel addiction may kill me and suffocate the life from my lungs but at least the fat is gone and I feel pretty...

This is how a once anorexic person felt. But the fat came back, and every bit of hard work was thrown to the trash... All the throwing up, all the slices that had been inflicted upon our sides...and now, once again, we're left alone... With no one to hold. Because who loves someone that's fat? No one... It's unattractive, disgusting...absolutely repulsive...

But truth be told, it isn't always our fault... Medical conditions, genes, hormones...these things can create fluctuations in weight gain and weight loss. The countless dieting, exercising, and calorie counting does nothing. We try and we try... And yet the fat still stays.

So now, as realization hits us, we lay here...crying ourselves to sleep...and wanting to just cut it all off with a single blade... Blood weighs quite a lot, you know...water weight. The spilling might cut off a few pounds... Possibly end the misery, the taunting, the bullying...

End a life.

This is what happens when we don't think about how people feel. When we point out their insecurities and taunt them for it... They sink into depression, and they develop a mindset where they truly believe that no one loves them. That no one ever will unless they are skinny and beautiful like other girls... After all, who's going to love someone that is only 5'5" and 180lbs?

We cut.
We cry.
We die.

We force food out of our system. Two fingers down the throat, and it's gone. A slit across the stomach, across the side, searing pain rushes through... But at least it creates the illusion of the pounds going away along with the blood.

We're so used to people not caring, that we don't even allow the people that do to find out. When asked, 'What's wrong?' We simply reply with, 'Nothing, it isn't important anyway...' Because, to us, it truly isn't. No one else will care, we tell ourselves, they'll just laugh... 'Work out.' 'Eat healthy.' We hear... But when that doesn't work, what's the next thing to do?
Starve ourselves.

Starve ourselves until all of it is gone. Until we're finally pretty... But then, we get confident. We start to accept again, start to eat again... And then, all that hard work and pain, goes down the drain. Just like our soul. We are simply an empty shell, roaming the halls with a blank look. No emotion. But every once in a while, you can catch that glint... That glint of pain and suffering and sadness.

Suicidal people don't want to die. We just want to end the pain... The emotional pain... The worst pain that can be felt. The belief that we will never be loved, and never be held close... Never be adored. And never finding anyone to love us the way we are... The way we come... No one to enjoy every last inch. Instead, all we feel is hatred and disgust. Even we despise ourselves and our bodies.

We don't want to see it anymore...

So let's all just let the smile we hide behind fade, and close our eyes...and fall into the darkness...