dallaslynnette said: I wish you the best through this tough time. I know how lame that may sound but I mean it :)
Thank you so much. You’re very sweet and this made me smile :)
I keep thinking about you and missing you and loving you and I hate it.
You once told me I was beautiful and that you loved me the way I was…I believed it and I loved you for it, but I don’t believe it anymore.
I’m not skinny, graceful, adorable, fun, easy-going, or perky…Hell, I’m not even happy.
I was happy when you were around but that’s not the case anymore and it’s not good either.
I’m thick, bulky, clumsy, scary, sad, damaged, broken, covered in scars from times I wanted to feel and stretch marks from being “the way (I am)” that you said you loved so much.
I believed it because I wanted so so badly believe in a love that loved flaws and darkness and girls that looked like me but I just don’t anymore.
I look in the mirror and I don’t see what you said you saw, not anymore.
I don’t see a beautiful woman.
I see stretch marks across my thighs, breasts, that have been there since puberty…and now I see the new ones that sneak up on me like little demons…on my biceps, the back of my knees, and my stupid stomach that just won’t disappear.
I look in the mirror and see the sad lonely girl from 7 years ago…I wish she’d go away but she doesn’t. She stares back at me and laughs in my face.
I thought I could love myself like you said you did but I am not strong enough.
I go about every day pretending I’m on some stupid pursuit of happiness and that I don’t need you or anyone like you but it’s such a fucking lie.
I’ll continue to wake up every morning though, put on lotion meant for pregnant women, hoping the stretch marks will fade and prevent new ones…I’ll take my vitamin E to help fade the other scars. I’ll put on $80 worth of makeup, a $115 pair jeans that makes me feel “skinny” and I’ll battle for some false sense of confidence every day….sometimes it works and I fool myself but most of the time it doesn’t.
You didn’t have to tell me you loved me.
You didn’t have to fucking talk to me.
You didn’t have to lie about me being beautiful.
You didn’t have to make me love you but you did and I hate you for it.
Like it was a fun game or challenge, I loved you finally and you left.
I hate you because I miss you.
Thoughts at 2 A.M
I think the most terrifying things aren’t shadow people or black eyed children. Nor tales of tall, faceless demons that crawl around in your nightmares. Because most of these are constructions of the imagination. I think the most horrifying things are human beings and what they are capable of.
Last night I dreamt about you again.
We were holding each other and just crying…tears of joy Im assuming and hoping.
It wasn’t real though. I still miss you and haven’t heard from you since June…and haven’t seen you since September 2013.