Midnight Tears

Insecure

Hello, my names insecure.

It's odd, I know. It's odd that every morning I spend hours painting my face with colors and blending it into a mask. It's odd that every time I look into a mirror I want to slam my fist into it and scream. It's odd that I spent so much time picking out things I hate about myself that I can't find a single feature I like. 

Hello, my names insecure. 

People say, "God makes no mistakes." I find it funny so I'll laugh in their face because if God makes no mistakes...what about me? Maybe God just had a bad day when he made me or maybe he made me just for amusement. If God is perfect what about me? 

Insecurity doesn't make you weak, it makes you human. 

Well I disagree.

Insecurity doesn't make me human it makes me vulnerable. The moment someone calls me pretty I respond with, "Did you mean me?" 

I wear the labels, insecure, invisible, and terrified so people know to just stay away. Just don't deal with me save yourselves get away. I'll back away when that sixth grade girl comes up to compliment my hair or my make up. 

Is she blind? 

Hello, my names insecure. 

I don't know if I've said this before but I get caught up in what I'm not that when I get back to reality I realize that what I'm not is "hot." 

Can you blame me? 

Society has this perfect cookie cutter girl and I happen to be the type of cookie that nobody wants. The type that sits there to rot. Unwanted, unloved. 

Insecure, invisible, terrified. 

When I come across those "what do you like about yourself?" posts on Instagram I come up with a lie instead of typing nothing. 

Everything, I like everything. 

I like the way my thighs rub together when I walk, I like the way my bottom teeth are crooked, I like the way my fingers are chubby and I can never find a ring that fits, I like the way my natural purple bags under my eyes compliment my hazel eyes. 

I tell myself these lies so often that I begin to believe them. I begin to think I like the way my fingers are chubby or my nose is big. 

Until that one girl across from me in Starbucks whispers to her boyfriend, "I'm glad I don't look like that." 

Insecure, invisible, terrified. 

Square one, I've gotten so used to this square I've mesmerized every dent, chip, and imperfection on these four walls just like I've mesmerized every imperfection on my body. 

Hello, my names insecure. 

And I've turned every mirror in my room over and close my eyes when I walk past one. I scoff when people call me pretty and cry when people say I'm not. 

In these four walls I'm invisible. Nobody is here to see me or make fun of me or judge me and that's how I like it. 

And that terrifies me. 

It terrifies me to know I'm going to be alone for the rest of my life and that helps me sleep at night. 

Insecure, invisible, terrified. Those words are no longer words they're my best friends and I take them everywhere. 

And by everywhere I mean to one corner of the room to another. 

Hello, my names insecure, invisible, terrified.