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?