There are people in this world that are genuinely depressed. And they get put down for it everyday because of people like me. They get accused of faking it for attention. And it makes me feel horrible knowing that I am one of those people. I am one of those people that is depressed for the sake of the attention that comes with it. Maybe that's why I've never hurt myself. Or overdosed like I sometimes wished I could. Because deep down inside, I know that I want to live. That I don't actually want that. Not everybody lives a happy life. But not everyone's is miserable either. And even though my life is neither of those, I want it to be. It's like I'm intentionally making life hard for myself.
But for some things, I'm not. I honestly think I'm fat. No matter what anyone else might say or might think. I don't eat a lot because sometimes the thought of eating more than the absolute necessary makes me want to puke. Whenever I look in the mirror I can't help staring at my eyes that are too small and my face that is too long and my skin that is too dark for a mixed race person. My waist which is too wide and my hips that are too narrow compared to the fat spilling over them. That my bum is way too small compared to my boobs and my legs are too hairy. That my face is greasy and covered in spots and scars and my fingers that are too fat and my feet that are too long and just the whole disproportionate reflection of my self that I see every time I look at myself in the mirror.
I'm not faking the insecurity I feel every single time I talk to a person. Whenever someone tells me they're my friend, I can't help but doubt their very existence because why would anyone want to be friends with me willingly? Why would they take their time to care about my feelings? So I analyse them. I analyse everything they say and all of their reactions. I don't tell them anything personal because I feel like if I do, they're just gonna walk around and reveal it to the whole school. I don't let myself get close because I think they're just faking it and one day, they're going jump out of a bush yelling 'surprise! This was all a prank!' When I walk around the streets, I feel like everyone is watching me. Waiting for me to slip up so that they can video me. Laughing at me silently, thinking and commenting on how ugly I am and how I don't deserve to be near them. How disgusted they are by me and my stupidity.
Because faking that I don't see all these things, faking the smile on my face is so realistic and common that I don't even know the real me anymore.
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YOU ARE READING
Faking Smiles
Short StoryI'm depressed. I'm unhappy. I want to die. The only thing stopping me from ending it all is pretending I'm okay until even I think it's true. But you wouldn't know that. Because you never bothered to ask. *Trigger Warning*
