Unpretty

                There is something inside of me that makes me feel every different ugly. The words that people call me or say to me and sometimes the pedicel that they put me make me feel ugly.  I know people find me pretty or even beautiful but deep down inside there is something that feels disgusted in the idea of anyone finding me attractive. I accept their compliments with my oh-so typical half smile. After a while if they keep repeating it, I get the feeling they are building me on a marble platform that rises with each compliments  and the discomfort settles in. For the simple fact of the higher the climb the steeper the fall. There are so few people that I believe or trust in those words.

                Someone special (DKTR) had started complimented me and all I felt was ugly in side. I felt that no one saw me for who I really was. A fear that they would see the beast inside of me and run away. I’ve settled being on my own but the heart break of having someone think you are the world only to rip their carefully lain pedicel out from underneath. I would fall on my face only to be heavily criticized by my once beloved (friend or family).

                After DKTR had complimented me, I denied and gave myself my very own special dose of emotional abuse. Yes, I know how unhealthy habit to have but I’m working on it.  There was something so special that came from DKTR. “I know you have flaws but you’re still a beautiful person.” It was in that moment that I came to feel truly and wholly accepted by someone. The words are so simple but so pleasurably reassuring.  For once, someone understands that I am only human. For some reason DKTR says not necessarily the things that I want to hear the truth as they see it. To them, I am beautiful because I am me and no one in the world can be me.

                For the first time in years, I looked in the mirror and didn’t see some twisted monster for the world of H.P Lovecraft but a pretty girl who hasn’t slept. This started a chain reaction in my life. People are always going to desire someone to be their hero or someone to look up to. They want someone who is perfect. Believe me when I muffle my snickering laughter toward these people that I understand the human condition. Well, I understand it as well as anyone else these days.

                It’s not ideals that create the perfection that someone needs so desperately.  It is the ability to let go of these narcotic aspirations and accept the folly of the mortal coil. I really know anything about. It makes no sense to me to start making assumptions about people to whom I know nothing about. However I am still an ear. A distracted ear but an ear none the less. I am my own person and follow up with that, I can unapologetically live a life where I answer to no one.  There is some freedom in that knowledge I can be myself.

Goth Chick Appreciation Day Special (HD) Foamy The Squirrel

Back to blue:

                If I had my way, I wouldn’t be staring down the mouth of the porcelain goddess in a blind sense of pain filled disarray and yet, here I am. I hadn’t been eating, sleeping or seeing anyone. Depression was a harsh mistress.  I knew starring at the floating reminisces of my plain bagel that I was reliving a part of my nightmare. Reliving a world I wish I had left behind. The migraine was searing and clinging to my head like a thick viscous fluid. In my delirium, I sought wisdom that somewhere in my pain, there was something logical. Something I could cling to.

                A thick darkness invaded my mind before I made a single phone call. I knew that there was one thing that was mine and mine alone.  That was until the darkness captured the last part of me. The darkness ate and enraptured that last part of my mind and therefore the last of my existence. I saw bits and pieces that were left of that night and as I rose the next morning I was still gone.

                Everyone around was a swallowed part of the background. I didn’t understand, I didn’t know, I couldn’t remember. I knew somewhere beneath my soul I knew where I was but I couldn’t understand. I remembered crying about it starting again. Within seconds I was transferred to five years earlier staring up at the ceiling of the ER waiting for the MRI technician to prep the room.  They already knew I had cancer and yet it was just a matter of time before it ate me whole.  Those moments intertwined with one another, R was there or was he? I remember gazing over at him wondering who he was and where he had come from. For that matter who was I?

                I remember, “Glutus Maximus, Glutus miniumus ” and as the nurse corrected me at the time of injection. “Glutus Ventrical.” I repeated over and over again in some attempt to washout the thudding roar of pain. In my slurred breath, I made it smaller “Maximus, minimus, ventrical.” Everything blurred away like the blue ink. A few days later I still feel like a blue smear water down by something that was less than myself.  Everything can be taken away from you.