"it may be hard for an egg to turn into a bird: it would be a jolly sight harder for it to learn to fly while remaining an egg. we are like eggs at present. and you cannot go on indefinitely being just an ordinary, decent egg. we must be hatched or go bad. " -c.s. lewis

Friday, September 18, 2009

My looks

growing up i never felt "pretty enough" or that i "looked good enough". i remember always being self conscious. there was this one time one of my older sisters friends came over and he completely fell "in love" (infatuation) with me. i remember it making me "feel good" about myself. what ever the fuck that means. going to school at the beginning of highschool was tough for me. i always felt i looked wierd. kinda like a boy. not feminine attractive. not girly pretty like the rest of the girls. i wore long jackets to cover my arms and pants to cover my legs and gym shoes to cover my feet and toes. living in saga bay across from all that water and woods there were a lot of mosquitos. they bit me all over. i scratched all over. as a result my legs and arms were covered in scars. im sure they looked worst to me and the way i have become to judge myself only made it worst. i was always in the mirror. checking. checking to make sure there was not something on my face or checking to make sure i looked as okay as i could make myself look. time went on and i "grew up". slowly but surely people began to show that they were okay with the way i looked. i started getting attention (sexual attention) from males. and i started recieving the okay from females. i eventually dropped the jackets and brought out the boobs. left the pants behind and brought out the legs. ditched the gym shoes and painted the toes. now i was, am still fucked inside. im self conscious to "no end". i pick at my face and body constantly. any pimple, scratch, scrap i get rid of. i judge myself based on flawed belief of sight and vision and perfection. and its such a mind fuck cause i pick because of the way i percieve my flaws, but my flaws are the BECAUSE I PICK lol. its so fucking stupid. the cycle. i fuck myself! my dad has always done his part to help keep my mindfuck going. everytime he would see me he was get this sad look on his face like "aww baby. ur face!" cause of all the picking and pimples. and i mean everytime he had a chance to look at my face! so im like thanks dad! u think im hedious. thats great. he'd always try and implament the next break through treatment for pimples and breakouts. he has no clue that he is apart of the catalyst. i tried to tell him once, in a bout of in security and anger, that he shuns my face everytime he sees in and im already self conscious enough to have the judgments coming from me and him of all people was not helping. he said some shit like im crazy and hes my father and is trying to help. but no lie. utter disgust and sadness he displayed in his "daddy way" everytime he saw my face. it made him more sad than me it seems. people around me(besides my boyfriend because, well hes my boyfriend and he knows a lot more about me than i allow others to, andbesides my best friend heather, and besides a couple of my sisters and brothers) dont know how self conscious i am. i guess i hide it. i mean, i pick at myself even when im around other people ( its so second nature at this point as i have allowed myself to become one and equal to it) but they dont know the jist of it. i have this fucked up view about the way i should look on the outside. some sort of vanity. the only reason i am okay with the way i look is because everyone else in the world seems to be. the boys like it. the girls like it. i dont like it, but who am i to go against what everyone else sees. when i told my friend heather she was completley taken back. to her im fucking beautiful. to her im a fucking model. i do not see me like that. at all. lol its funny really. but not so much because it has shaped my world. i am always in the mirror. looking to see if anything is out of place or needs to be picked. lol its funny when i see it written down. its like, HELLO! am i serious with this shit? its sad. i need to stand. while im sitting here fucking picking....

if i told myself i was done today. no more picking. no matter the circumstances. no resisting . just no more accepting and allowing myself to be directed by my insecurity. would that entail not using anymore of my acne shit? life is not equal to self consciousness. i am not equal to self consciousness. i am life. as i truely am. my true self. the breath. i need to get this shit together. no more waiting. this is something that can only be done now. this moment. i stop.

1 comment:

  1. Yep, my mother does the same thing your father does, it doesn't make sense that if a person already is self conscious about acne that parents instead packs it in and makes it worse. Like wtf?