I look at the world, wondering where my place in it is. I wonder if it is all really worth it. Is it? We go through pain greater than many can imagine. We are forced to stare fear straight in the face. We’re made to find a way to deal, cope, and handle trial after trial. Most of us are terrified of walking out of our doors, fearing what the world may think of us, scared of how they’ll react to us, thinking about nothing other than how we’ll be judged. I look at the world and see that one can only make it based on looks and connections; who knows who. We all want to be known. We all want to be loved by all. The reality is, were not going to be known. No one is ever going to care about us enough to know who we really are. People may know your name, or your pretty face, or what street your huge house is on. But no one is going to know you; not everything about you.

And love? Does anyone know the actual meaning of that word? We toss that word around like it can be tossed around. That word means pain, and only pain. We attach to someone, and they leave us; a friendship breaks, or a relationship crumbles, or someone leaves this earth completely, never to be seen again until reunification in Heaven. Why love? Why have feelings? Being happy only lasts a fragment of a second, and before you know it, you’re on your bathroom floor, crying while the tub fills so that no one can hear you. Before you know it, razor blades become your arm’s best friends. Before you know it, you’re on a lifelong quest that you don’t even realize to become thin and noticed; to be liked by someone; a guy; a normal, average guy. Before you know it, you lose all grip of life, binging and purging become second nature, anger roots down from deep inside, making a permanent home for itself, and the word fun becomes a stranger. Worry overpowers your mind. Stress takes over your body. And while all this is going on inside of you, no one cares enough to care. The world is wrapped up in their own little world; spending money like they have it to spend, gossiping like they’re not ruining someone’s life by doing so. While we’re in pain, others are shopping; drinking cocktails at a nearby bar, hitting on other men and women in hopes to get laid that night.

We all keep secrets. Correct? Why? What purpose does that show? Why do people hold things from one another? Because they’re scared, that’s why. The things we keep in the light are critiqued, how are we supposed to put what’s been in the dark all of our lives into the light? So that all of that can be shoved back into our faces at one point? You want to look fine to the world. We all want to look like nothing is wrong; like nothing is affecting us. We do this because we want to not only convince everyone else that nothing’s wrong, but we ourselves want to think and know that nothing’s wrong. Our biggest challenge is making ourselves content. At what point are we just okay? At what point to we say “the rest of the world doesn’t matter” and “I’m fine and perfect the way I am”? How do we stop caring without stopping the caring?

Why am I writing all of this? Because this is me. This is who I am. I hurt inside. I’m that person on the bathroom floor crying while the bathtub runs so that no one can hear. I’m that person who for the last four years has cared about nothing other than my weight; about looking good so a guy could like me, love me. I’m that girl who uses razor blades to release the pain from inside and tries focus the pain on the outside. I’m that person who has become an angry person; who can lose it at any second. And I’m the perfect little goodie girl with the straight A’s in all honors classes trying to keep myself composed in front of the world. I’m the one trying to convince my friends, my teachers, my parents, my siblings, my grandma, and most of all, myself that I’m okay and that I’m strong, and that I can get through and handle anything. I’m writing this, letting it all out.

I’m sick of trying to run away from pain. It always catches up with me. I’m so sick of feeling fat and unpopular. I’m sick of crying. I’m tired. I’m exhausted. I look at the world and wonder where my place in it is. I look at the world and the hurt it brings, and I wonder…is it worth it?