Ugly

Oilyy / (Shutterstock.com)
Oilyy / (Shutterstock.com)

Have you ever jumped in deep water and for a slight second thought, Hey, maybe I won’t ever come up?

I’m that girl that always smiles and will never be found without a cheek-to-cheek smile, but is that really true? When I’m alone, I cry. I cry a lot. I lie in bed and think about life—what life could be and what life isn’t.

I stand in a group of people who are laughing and smiling and from the outside I fit in, I laugh along, I make jokes and I have a good time like any other teenager should. I’m not faking my laugh or even my smile, but deep down I feel an indescribable pain. Simple words tear me apart.

Last week, I was with a big group of people to celebrate a birthday, a lot of the kids were drunk and we all know some people can’t control themselves when they are drunk. Personally, I don’t drink. Being one of the few sober people it was fine; someone had to take care of those who can’t take care of themselves. Three drunken words spoken from someone brought me back to where I never wanted to be:

“You are ugly.”

It was a joke, but how would I have known? Tears began to roll down my cheeks faster than light. I was out of breath and I ran outside. The darkness of 2AM was beautiful; I stood under the dim streetlights trying to catch my breath. A few minutes passed; soon rain started coming harder and harder. I shivered under the streetlights wondering if I’ll ever make it home. Maybe deep down I didn’t want to go back to the place I call home.

August of 2013. I went a few days where my appetite was lost. I couldn’t eat, and I couldn’t look at myself in the mirror anymore. The color slowly left my complexion and I felt lost. Slowly, I became stronger, I took my anger out in soccer, and it seemed to lighten the pain of this life. I couldn’t tell anyone simply due to the fact that I didn’t want help. I lost weight and began to feel beautiful again; it seemed to feel like every pound I lost, the more beauty I held. I tried to tell the guy I thought mattered most to me—my boyfriend who hadn’t talked to me in a week. I was 14 at the time; of course I thought I was in love. He broke up with me when I searched for help from him and that is when I thought my life was over. I didn’t want to go on.

November of 2013. The guy that had broken up with me a few months before came crawling back, but I didn’t bother telling him about any of my problems. He had a lot of problems of his own, and I remember each of the many times he cried to me for hours upon hours and I listened and gave him support. He always said to me, “You’re smart. You have really experienced life.” But really I had no idea what the hell he was talking about—marijuana, meth, bath salts, and pills I had never heard of before. Was this some kind of second world I was never told about?

Right now, I wish I never would have known about those drugs and ways to relieve the pain.

March of 2014. He moved across the country. I had been at a good point in life. I was eating regularly and could control my sadness. I remember the day he left perfectly; I screamed the worst I’ve ever screamed before. It was a pain I will never forget, and again my appetite was gone. The darkness had taken over me, but no one knew. I sat in class with sunglasses for a few days until I got yelled at. The staff thought I was high, but the truth is, my eyes were swollen and I could barely even see out of them. The pain is physically noticeable now. People try to talk to me and I simply cry because I don’t have any words. The amount of hugs I received and the caring messages were thoughtful, but saying “Stay Strong” doesn’t always help.

It’s August of 2014 now, and school is starting in a few weeks. I feel the same as I did last year, I am eating a little bit more but I can’t seem to lose any weight no matter how hard I try. I’m scared of what people will think of me. Everyone always gets prettier over the summer, but what if my peers don’t think the same about me? I only leave the house for soccer practice and occasionally I go for a run early in the morning because I don’t want people to see me. I’m ugly; at least I think I’m ugly.

I receive compliments all the time and the likes I have on my occasional Facebook selfies don’t seem to help my self-esteem. Why? Because I scroll down and see someone prettier than me.

I haven’t dated anyone since my boyfriend moved away; I don’t think I could ever love someone until I learn how to love myself. TC mark

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