Invisible Monsters

Beautiful?

Dear Diary,

Mr. Jenkins said, "Akeea, I know this sounds like a cliche, but sweetheart you are beautiful. Yes you are."

Am I? Am I really?

Are we looking in the same mirror? Do you not see what I see?

Of course not. People think I want a pity party when I say that I am ugly. The truth is, I truly believe that I am an ugly piece of shit. With my unclear skin. Too thick eyebrows. My big ass nose that always messes up the pictures. And my smile, god damn it. It's so fucking lopsided. I look like the black version of Big Bird. Even that fucker looks better than me.

My body looks good (in clothes). I'll give myself that. But my face is so disproportionately...bad.

Besides even if I wasn't tearing myself down on my looks, I had people already doing that for me.

Every damn day, someone coming up with a remark about my damn teeth. And how skinny I was. And black. But the dark skinned comments came in middle school. The teeth remarks were the one that really broke me down.

I look at all these beautiful white girls/light skinned girls with their clear skin and very pretty smiles. I look at them with no hatred in my heart, just longing. I am very appreciative of beauty. I see beauty everywhere. And girls are the most beautiful people ever.

The drawn pictures. The snickers when I enter a room. The points and the comments about me ever getting braces. Public humiliation in front of crowds of people about my flaws can really break someone down.

WHY DOES IT FUCKING MATTER? WHY DO YOU CARE?

The faces people make mimicking a bunny. My dad did that several times. I never forgave him for that. And I obviously never forgotten about them either.

How can I possibly believe I am attractive when all I've been hearing from even people that I thought cared about me was the exact opposite?

I feel tired.

I've grown attached to Mr. Jenkins. He says it will take a lot of work but that we will get there.

He also said, "You told me that no matter how hard you try, it won't matter because it won't change anything. Well how do you know that if you haven't been to the end yet? You just started writing in your journal. You haven't been to the end yet."

I suppose he is right. I'm not nearly close to the end yet.