I See Ugly

No rose colored lenses here

 

 

I See Ugly

Pages from fashion magazines are taped to my mirror. I can't stand my reflection. Those women with their tiny waists, long hair, and pretty faces are perfect. I am not. Their beauty is a gift to the world. I am a curse and do no deserve love.

Everytime I look at my plate of food, I see the main reason why I'm the world's cross to bear. I try not to look at my lumpy body when I bathe as it makes me cry. Whenever I stick a finger down my throat, I purge some of the ugliness out of my soul. It still isn't enough and I feel it never will be.

With every taunt I hear, I slash tiny threads on my skin in order to subdue the pain I feel. Little red lines adorn my thighs like daily reminders that people don't like me. The cold blade is my savior; it comforts me and keeps me sane. Sometimes I can forget the laughter I hear when I walk down the street.

There are some people that insist that I'm not fat. There are some people that insist that I am beautiful. And, there are some people who tell me that they love me. I don't believe them, only the voices in my head are telling me the truth. Many believe that I make myself miserable and need "help." They don't understand. Like me, honesty is often ugly. It is all that I hear, feel and see.