Pained

38

a lot of people tell me i'm beautiful. i find it hard to believe. i'm drowning in my own insecurities, but what is it to really be beautiful?

to most, it's having a nice smile that meets the corners of someone's face at the right places. just the right color of lips. long, shining but not greasy, cascading hair. slender bodies. sparkling eyes, bright as the sun's light. a perfectly shaped face with not too thin or too full cheeks.

to me, it's her. the way she thinks. the way she brings up the smallest most random things because she feels strongly about them. the way she still talks to me though we aren't the same as we used to be. it's the way she looks at others. the way i look at her.

but when people tell me that i am beautiful, i don't believe it because i don't see what i see in her within myself. i don't see anything good about me.

when i look in the mirror, i am revealed to everything i hate about myself. i stare into my eyes, searching for my own soul. when i find it, i crash to the ground because i realize that nothing worth saving is there. i see the reasons why people leave. why i'm unwanted by even me.

sometimes people tell me that they think it's nice how i can put my pain into words for the benefit of others. i enjoy helping. i really do. but sometimes hearing that just makes me so terrified because i begin to get so caught up in pleasing other people that i worry i will be like this for forever.

i want to live happily. i want to die knowing that i lived a hell of a life. i want to be loved. i want to have someone that accepts me and doesn't give up on me.

i just want love. it's all i could ever ask for. i'm sorry that i'm selfish.