freestyle poems and ballads

Why I am So Ugly

Why I Am So Ugly
As a child, having friends to play with at recess was my biggest worry. No schoolwork, or a job. No emotionally unstable or uninvolved parents, or siblings you no longer see to fret over. Just which kid you were going to buddy up with on the next class field trip. I sure had friends though, no worries there. Being so young, it didn't matter what you looked like, or how much money your mommy and daddy had, or if you did well on the weekly spelling test, you just had to be kind. Unfortunately, all good things must come to an end eventually. Here I am now, a junior in high school, and nobody would have ever guessed, alone. Apparently, more doubling in size in less than five years tied in with the WalMart t-shirts I love, and the free school lunch I've received since kindergarten, I am no longer likeable. Nobody wants to be my friend, nobody thinks I'm pretty enough, and absolutely nobody wants to be my buddy.
Honestly though, I do not blame them for even a second for thinking all of these mean things about me. Yes, the words fat, ugly, and worthless ring through my head on the daily, but I do not blame them. At least these absolute strangers are being honest and expressing their opinions. It is impressive honestly, being so comfortable with saying such things. Sure, I will forever be craving a body type that I do not have, and wishing I did not have those brownish dots splattered all over, and longing for flowing blonde hair, but I am glad those boys in school are happy with themselves. Sometimes I even feel quite bad for them. I cannot begin to imagine being surrounded with such negativity all the time. I think it is pretty clear someone has been hurt before when they feel the need to express to a girl they have said two words to their whole life that she looked fat in the shirt she chose to wear on her birthday. Those poor boys, and all of that insecurity; I can hardly take it. Is it my looks that make me so unworthy of friendship?
I sat there on my bed, in which I had not left in days, and wondered. I like all of the same things as everyone else, I write all the same cheesy Instagram captions, I wear all of the same clothes, and buy all of the fancy makeup. Why does she get all of the love? What is it about me that makes me so ugly? These questions never stop rolling in. As a child I was a prime candidate for friendship, short and cute, but now I am not even worthy of a hello passing through the halls. I post on social media and lose followers while there are other girls in my school who have thousands.
So, I ask myself, why am I so ugly? For a long time, I used to sit and list all of the flaws that have been pointed out to me by others. I could remind myself of my freckles, and my weight, and my terribly cut bangs, and my poor fashion choices, but now I do not think I will. What is so terribly ugly in this situation is the fact that I believed these people in the first place. Those incredibly hurtful and unnecessary words, that is what is ugly. Not me, not my flaws, but their words. I should not have ever just sat there and listened to those boys in first period, or felt unwanted by the girls in sixth period choir. I am beautiful, and always have been. I hope that I have learned, and that I have grown, so I will never be susceptible to that ugly again. I am not the ugly one, and frankly, neither are they. It has nothing to do with how anyone looks, and all with how we all speak. So I will go ahead and sit there, in first period, but I will not be engulfed in the ugly. It is not me, it is not who I am, and it will never be who I become. I guess I am not so ugly after all.