Anxious

Who am I- to myself?

It sounds cheesy, and I feel like we all say it, but really. Who the heck am I? To my parents, I'm their second and last child, who was honestly born by a miracle, considering for a whole two days after nearly 10 months, I didn't move at all and they worried I would be a still-born. But when I arrived, I was alive, clearly. They love me very much and I definitely couldn't say I'm neglected or abused in anyway, and I'm grateful they're both alive loving each other, and me. 

To my older sister, Kennedy, I'm her baby sister who she also loves, and when I was younger, she taught me how to spell my name and read. She also read me stories before bed and babysat when my parents were busy. She understood me more than anyone, more than my closest of friends and my parents, yet she still couldn't read my mind. 

To my friends, none of us are close enough where I tell them everything, but where they think I tell them everything. Then again, I don't tell anyone EVERYTHING...either way, to them, I'm obviously their friend. They trust me with "their deepest, darkest secrets," (just their crushes who they're gonna admit to that they like next week, then date for a month and tell me another mind-blowing "secret.") we go to the mall and hangout, have sleepovers, skip classes together occasionally, dare each other to ask out guys we think are cute, try out for the cheer squad together, the usual, you know.

To my dog (Peaches) and cat (Cookie Dough), well, I'm a god to them. I'm their master who they love and obey; I feed and water them, walk my dog, change my cats litter box, and they sleep in my bed every night. Of course there's the rare day when they ruin my entire room, but it's all cool, I love them.

To any of my previous boyfriends, and my current boyfriend, Kurt, I'm apparently really attractive, both physically and on the inside. And they love me, we're gonna be together forever, yada yada, you know this drill.

To my teachers, I'm a (mostly) straight-A student, they like me good and well, not minding too much my minimal talking in class and tardies. I know my history teacher doesn't like me too much, but my English teacher likes me a lot, so it balances it out.

To my haters, eh they just hate me for whatever their reasons are. I'm just the person they dislike.

To any of my peers around school, just that one blond girl of the other 3 blond girls on the cheerleading squad.

To a stranger, just a stranger. Simply a pedestrian they happened to glance at in the supermarket.

To my mirror, I'm the grossest, ugliest thing it's ever seen. It thinks my hair is brittle and knotted, my nose is large and crooked, my eyes are too big and just dull blue, my lips are uneven and thin, my features are plain, but in a horrific way. My body isn't necessarily fat or skinny; just no curves or muscle. My feet are too long and my toes are like a monkey's. My arms are awkwardly long and skinny, and even my head is shaped weird. My legs are too long, and my ankles are super thin, but my thighs are huge, yet my butt is flat. I have body dysphoria, meaning I literally do know what I look like actually, but my mind when I look in the mirror or step on the scale deforms my perspective on it so that I go through eating disorders. I've been through a couple and no one even knew; bulimia and anorexia. It hasn't been drastic enough to make me lose or gain a massive amount of weight, just me having the symptoms of them with no one knowing or me being diagnosed. So I don't really technically have them. Just sometimes I won't eat for a week, then I'll completely binge and eat way too much, then throw it all back up. The main reason I go through this all is my anxiety.

To my anxiety, the one thing that controls over my thoughts and feelings, feels the same way my mirror does, yet it doesn't want me to try too hard, or else it'll be obvious and everyone will hate me. But if I don't do anything, everyone will hate me. I have to wear makeup, but not too much or people will think I'm fake and can't just be natural. I can't wear none or too little or I'll be seen as a slob. If I wear the wrong clothes to accentuate my shape, people will see clearly how gross my body is and also think I'm a show-off, but if I wear baggy sweaters or sweatpants then I'll be gross and look ashamed of my body. If I cut my hair it'll look awful, but it looks terrible long, too. Then if I try and reach out and be nice, I look desperate and lonely, but if I don't talk to people I'll just look lonely and weird. If I like a different type of music, then I could be made fun of if it's weird, although if I just listen to the same stuff everyone else does, then I'm labelled as basic. And if I do this, people might think that, yet if I do that, people could think whatever, and- you get the point by now.

My life is way more difficult simply because of my brain. And where does it come from? Why am I so anxious all the time? Was I ever bullied or harassed to make me so insecure about...everything? The answer is the only bully is me.

So, finally, to me, I'm an insecure bully, who hates herself and everything about it, and wants to change, or communicate with someone about it, but can't do either. I'm so nervous about people not liking me, or judging me, or excluding me, or whatever. I just want acceptance and love, I just want to conform and it's not anyone's fault but mine. I know that if people don't accept the real me, they're not real friends. And I know that I'll always have someone who loves me no matter what, but I still can't help but strive to achieve everyone's approval and avoid judgement at all costs. My worst fear of all is rejection. The feeling kills me on the inside just thinking about it. I would never be vulnerable enough to let that happen. That's why, inevitably and by no choice of mine, my side-kick always tags along everywhere I go, it's my best friend that I hate, my worst enemy that I can't help but kinda love: anxiety.