Naomi POV:
I like to say I am a confident person. No matter what the kids at school say about me, they can't change my own opinion of myself. I have never listened to Raymond when he and his friends shouted insult after insult at me every single day in the hallways. When The kid at the back of the class passed me a note telling me that I'm worthless, I crumpled it up and threw it in the trash can without a second thought. I take pride in the fact that every time the kids at school have tried to knock me down I've gotten right back up again.
I like to say I am a confident person. But I know it's a lie. Because despite my best efforts to brush off every insult like it's nothing, despite every time I get up from the ground and continue on my way like nothing happened, despite my snarky attitude and confident posture, every time I look in the mirror at myself I feel an immense feeling of hatred. It's not from the kids at school, but rather my own mind that continues to tell me that no matter how hard I try I will never be deserving of love or affection or happiness.
I hate myself, to put it simply. I hate this person who I've become. I hate myself because not a day goes by when I don't walk past a group of girls and wish that I was made like them - confident, fun, and beautiful. I hate myself because I have a hideous smile and a horrible laugh, so that even happiness looks ugly on me. I hate myself because I know that deep down, I'm not a good person, and there's nothing anyone can tell me that will make me think otherwise.
No matter how many times they lie and say I'm beautiful, no matter how many times they tell me that, despite how awful I am, they still somehow think I'm a good person, no matter how many times they try to convince me that I'm supposed to love the disgusting thing that I am, I will always hate myself. The hate that I feel for myself is just all too consuming.
And right now, I hate that it's 2 a.m. and I'm sitting alone in my bed, both exhausted and unable to fall asleep because I'm too busy thinking of ways to kill myself and reasons I hate myself because I don't know how much longer I can keep living like this when I wake up every morning with no hope that the day will be better than the last and I'm going to sleep crying every night because everything is just so difficult for me now and I just want to be happy with myself, to not be overwhelmed with disgust whenever I look in the mirror, to wake up every day and be happy with myself. And I hate that nothing I do ever seems to be enough for anyone, not even my own damn self.
I hate that I've completely changed who I am, to make sure that I'm never too confident because I shouldn't be, never too happy or relaxed because I don't deserve to be, never completely myself because who I am is not a good thing to be. God, I'm so pathetic.
I stifle a sob I didn't know I'd been holding back, trying to muffle my voice in the sheets, but it still came out loud because I can't even do that right. It hurt. God, it hurt so much knowing that I'll never truly be happy, but I guess I really don't deserve to be. I'm annoying and ugly and I cause so much pain to other people simply by existing.
"Naomi?" I voice brings me out of my pitiful thoughts and I look up to see a tall figure in the doorway. Although I can't see him in the dark, I immediately recognize the voice as Jordan's.
"Sorry, did I wake you up?" I asked, trying not to sound like I'd been crying.
"Yeah," he said, and I could vaguely see him scratch the back of his neck. Great. My friends can't even sleep without my ruining it somehow.
"Oh. I'm sorry," I said quietly, still trying to keep my voice steady, but I'm mortified to hear it crack near the end and I hope Jordan didn't notice it.
"It's fine. Um... are you alright?" he asks.
"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. You can just go back to bed. Sorry again about waking you up," I apologized. I can hear him let out a sigh.
