If I am very quiet in real life when I meet you, I don’t mean to offend. I suffer from social anxiety, insomnia, dysphoria and insecurity. I want to talk to you and say things but I physically can’t. Pulling my hood down off my head trips me out if I am not used to you. I don’t want to stay curled into myself. I want to make friends but you have to give me time. Let me come out of my shell. If I physically can’t after knowing you for awhile then I will find other ways.
My neck hurts from hanging my head down so you don’t see my face. My baggy hoodies on hot days to hide the body I hate. My silence so I won’t draw attention to myself.
Please take this advice when dealing with people who have the same problems. Let them crawl out. Do not drag/force them out of their shell. Slow and easy but be there for them when they need you.
Coming to the realisation, that you, In fact, are hurting yourself with your thoughts so severely, is a weird kind of eye opener. So many things I say or do are just self sabotage to make me feel the worst i possibly could just because I can’t bear my insecurities. There are some things about me that I have a hard time accepting and it makes me lose all hope and self confidence. I wish everyone could just let go of me like I already have. It would make a lot of stuff more miserable but in the long run probably the best for me and everyone involved
I used to scoff at Audrey Hepburn’s advice about beauty. About how it was about kindness and compassion. This conventionally attractive white icon telling me to be good felt hollow.
But now I realise - I do not feel beautiful everyday and it has reached a point where when I do feel beautiful it makes me angry - how dare I convince myself I am not and then be indecisive about even that? Why can I not make up my mind? it is not the insecurity that gets under my skin it is the moments when I’m sure I am beautiful.
And that is why Hepburn’s words are genius.
You cannot control what the world thinks is beautiful all the time. You cannot convince yourself you are beautiful all the time. But you can do your best to be kind, to do good and to not forget you were.
To me, goodness is so much more tangible than beauty.
insecurity is a spiritual issue
oh god what is that thing and why won’t it shut up
Open. Read. No reply.
No line of careless actions
could make me doubt more.
the most thing I dislike is when someone joke about something I’m insecure about then say “do u feel bad? I’m sorry I didn’t mean to make u feel insecure, idk you hate it tho, cuz it doesn’t define you” like idk how to react… do i say thank you for telling me it doesn’t define me,or should i say fuck because u reminded me.
I am currently 22 weeks now and even though it is an exciting time to know we are having a son and healthy pregnancy. It is a hard time due to the Covid-19 pandamic. We currently live in New Zealand. We are having more and more cases being announced every single day. Not 1-5, but at this point 40 has been the max cases in one day… just of today. We are also going into stage 4 which means we will be in lock down… Being scared and cautious of catching the conscious is enough as it is, but to have to carry another soul inside me scares the hell out of me and I feel guilty. I just hope that this lock down everyone takes it seriously and is considerate of others so we can sort it out before July comes. Hope everyone stays safe and those who are suffering don’t have to suffer any longer and recover soon!
Warning. Super dark.
A Place Called Death
I use to dream of suicide
What would happen when I died
I use to dream of ending it all
Going to hell in a free fall
I don’t understand why I feel this way
When did I die and lose my say
Because the truth is I did it awhile ago
Held the gun to my head but I couldn’t press go
I wanted so badly to end my life
But hell kept looking at me that night
I remember being scared of what’s under my bed
But today I’m far more scared of what’s in my head
So many emotions so little time
Here I sit with another dismal rhyme
Anxiety and depression they never cease
Insecurities and hatred they never ease
My brain is sick and slowly dying
I’m never enough I’m sick of crying
I’m tired of hating what I see in the mirror
Get in my head you’ll see all my fear
I’ve been the first choice for anyone right
Never been a vital part of anyone’s life
So there I said it no lie
Every day is a fight I want to die
i’ll kiss your stretch marks, and call them thuderbolts
i’ll graze the scars and admire them like they were the stars
and the belly is not something you have to worry about deeply
your imperfection won’t stop the admiration
nor would it lessen the affection
this is me telling you
that even the parts you dislike, i love deeply
“Okay, humor me,” she said half-seriously half-jokingly. Her phone made a gentle clink on the metal table. The screen was still lit, a half composed text to her ex-boyfriend appears faintly beneath it. “Let’s say that it’s human nature to desire power. Relationships whether you are loved, loving or neither if you are part of it.” When she speaks this way, I know it’s not out of curiosity. Narcissists don’t attempt to understand their emotions. They can only justify them.
After a few moments, I managed to exhale a response. She leans in eagerly, she’s trying to listen. There was something in her eyes that reminded me of a little girl. The type of look given to your mother after you ask “Mommy, can I get this?”. “What if I told you that love is a delusion?” I attempted to speak as quickly as possible. Narcissists lose interest more swiftly than a hyper toddler before bedtime, especially when they believe they have an opportunity to receive instant validation. “The reason why I asked you that”, I continued. “Love, no matter what type has the dexterity to alter the mind’s natural process. A delusion can be considered the same thing.” Her eyes are still on me, a stone-cold stare. I believe I’ve gotten her attention. “You could live in the security of this person’s love, yes? Perhaps the reason why you compelled to reach out to this person is simply that at some point their love gave you power. They no longer saw your imperfections or shortcomings. They only saw you and they loved that.”
She leans back into her chair. Her cigarette has gone out. Her hand twitches between her lighter and her cellphone with the unfinished text. “You make it sound so beautiful,“ she smiled sweetly, looking down. “Our love is different now, but love nonetheless. Is it so wrong to want to keep it? If I am allowed to love him still, why should I deny myself the ability to share it with him?”. I make a sad attempt to allow her to internalize her words for a bit. Sadly, it has already exited her mouth. She means it, and she’s not taking it back. I let out an exasperated sigh. My slim fingers wrap around the curve of my wine glass. I chug my 2008 glass of pinot without tasting it.
“You already love someone else. The life you had with him is gone. You have managed to rewrite a similar story, except the cast has been replaced. Call it a sequel. How often do you see someone from the original cast in a sequel? Hardly ever. ” My words are very precise and orotund. This way of thinking cannot be considered sensible by any means. At this point in the discourse, I am completely determined to get my point across. “Take Grease and Grease 2, for example. We look back at the original fondly, it is considered a very influential factor in movie history. Grease 2 goes completely overlooked. Once there is an original we have no choice but to compare the two. It is natural for consumers to consider repetition as something positive, similar to a safety net. If the original film can evoke this emotion within me, the second one should and will.”
I pause for a moment. It takes an incomparable amount of strength to hide the smug look that is slowly creeping over my face. She rolls her eyes, her right foot is anxiously tapping against the uncomfortable patio chair. The chair lets out a defeated squeak. The lighter and phone are still in the same place, untouched, unaltered. “So now that you’re done speaking in analogies, can you just get to your point? I’m too old for lectures.” Okay, I’ll admit it, I feel absolutely defeated. I originally instigated this conversation with the intent to share whatever allotment of emotional intelligence that I have gathered in my short twenty-four years of life. She patiently waits for a response. Interesting behavior for someone who has made their decision before asking a question. The opaque blue bag crinkles in my fingertips. My house key scoops and I inhale. My truth serum, I like to call it. A hopeful smile creeps across my face, my dimples define.
“Maybe its power that you desire, not love. Think of all the things you want to accomplish in the future and do them. Simple as that. That’s more powerful than any love if I’m being honest. With love comes respect. If you respect him you should be able to love him from afar. You do not need to speak to him, the best thing you can do is hope and pray that he’s happy. So no, don’t text him back. That’s way less romantic.” The bartender notifies us that its last call, and just like that, it’s my cue to go. It seems as if she has already withdrawn from the conversation. Honesty can be boring, I assume. My right hand seizes the lighter off the table, it clicks creating an audible click through the array of voices filling the cramped patio.
I make a hasty french exit with her lighter in hand, it’s the only thing that I could salvage from that discussion. It’ll do. My boyfriend texts me as I make my way down the block. It’s a picture of our cat, Stephen. He has a gentle method of requesting updates on my whereabouts, one of his many quirks that I adore. Before I turn the corner I take one last glance at the bar. Sure enough, there she is, cigarette in one hand, phone in the other. If she was on The Price Is Right she would have opened doors.
One more block and I’m home. A wave of dejectedness washes over me, I am more disheartened than I am resentful. How miserable must it be to try to control love? It is the most powerful of them all. Love can be a noun, an adjective and a verb all at once. The few who permit love to stay in its natural state are the most fortunate people alive. “I’ll be home soon. I love you”, I text my boyfriend. The only power I ever desired while being in love was the strength to allow this person the keys to every wall I have ever devised for myself. He may not own them all, but they are on a key ring waiting.
An unpossessed ego is the truest way to allow love to form.
Already Drunk but… ooh get me high
Do this ‘till you’re fucking on with me
Leave it behind, it’s all gone
If you really wanna let it go
You wanna feel something and that’s fine
You gon’ let him swallow up your pride?
You can come with me and just ride
We can do this till the night ends
Spliff and some pills burn your eyes
You can take off your disguises
He ain’t worth the tears that you cry
All you wanna do is get high
That’s okay, lets get high
Let’s do this till we’re fucking numb
Ooh get me high
“ don’t be scared with your insecurities, just because you’re not beautiful.
but believe me that we are such a beatiful person from our heart and way since we born ”.
I am posting this here hoping I will not get judged. I never post photos of me smiling with my teeth. I am extremely insecure about them, they are my biggest insecurity and they have ruined so many things for me.
Bad genes, bad life decisions, a fear of the dentist, and no insurance has left me with horrible teeth.
I feel like everytime I post a photo with my mouth closed, I am lying to everyone. I don’t know, it’s strange I guess.
I’m never gonna admit it, but I’m a green-eyed monster. 🤦♀️
I hate when I listen to my brain
When I acknowledge the hidden pain
When I open the door and let it in
Like I’m standing in some kinda prison
Loneliness has been here for years
It’s seen the worst some real bad tears
I watched as my friends left me
From this memory I’ll never be free
Depression came in like a friend
Hey you’re lonely man let me in
I’ll keep you company never alone
I’ll be with you wherever you roam
Anxiety then showed all a lot of fear
Told me that I can’t let anyone near
Stealing my thoughts and my voice
It’s not up to me I wasn’t given a choice
I don’t remember when Insomnia came
But I can tell you he has left no gain
He’s stolen my sleep I’m sick and tired
He’s taken what’s mine now I’m fired
Anger showed up what a lie
Honestly I can’t think of a reason why
Because I use to be so happy and free
But how in the mirror I hate seeing me
Insecurities feed the rest
Life of pain full of regrets
Never going to measure up
Never going to be enough
So yes, I hate my brain
Don’t worry I know you think I’m insane
It’s fine though I just don’t care
That’s a lie which is not that fair