most of the time i have nothing against what i look and what i am. what i say and what i feel and what i think and what i do. but sometimes i look a little closer into the mirror and i see. everything. that i hate. all the flaws i possess - and although i’ve heard over and over that everyone has flaws i can help but think that mine look so ugly. i want someone in life to love, someone that will accept me for who and what i am and how i look. i want someone who’s close to me, who knows what i think, what i like, what i love. who knows my insecurities and secrets and dreams.
and yet it scares me. that anyone would know all of this. because i doubt anyone could truly see me and know me and still want to be with me. who would want my ugly thumb and my ugly thighs and my ugly toes and ugly nails and my hair? my weird bellybutton that doesn’t look like an innie or outie. the acne on my face. the boringness of my overall appearance.
i have looked into a mirror and seen something i am completely ok with. i have done it before. but when i look a bit closer it’s a completely different story and i wish i could change it but i don’t want to change it.
i don’t know. and those three words probably sum up all there is to me. because i truly don’t know. sometimes i wish i did and sometimes i don’t. sometimes i completely ignore all there is to it because i’m good at that. and sometimes i pretend. i’m good at that too.
mum says she’d want me to become a doctor, a lawyer, a dentist, an optometrist - someone that earns money so i can spoil her and do things for her and i DONT THINK SHE GETS IT that i want to do what iwantand i’m not cut out to be those things and she just fucking thinks i can do whatever as long as i try but that’s the problem. mum says study and clean your room and do all these fucking things score higher than your sister improve maths improve science stop reading think about uni AND IM FUCKING 14 please leave me alone. mum says this and she fucking says that he can do cooking at tafe, because that’s what he wants to do and i want to say , he’s fucking autistic what the fuck does it matter and it makes me a bad person and i hate that i think that butgodshe doesnt have a clue. she gets it i guess but she gets it in a way that it would be better if she didnt altogether.