Silent Screams

Free Write 2a

How can someone love me or even think about loving me when all I can do is hate myself? How is it possible that I'm spoken fair by people, and yet I will never think I'm actually beautiful? Everything is an empty compliment, devoid of real meaning. I'm called cute, but he wants my body. I'm called pretty, but I don't like him in that way. I'm called beautiful, but I'm confused. I'm called pretty, and my heart sighs. There's this empty compliment, based solely on appearance, yet it takes hold on me. I am confused, wondering when I will ruin everything. I always ruin something. I'm told that people like me, but I can't believe that. I'm given looks in the hallway that frighten me. I am not used to being looked at in a sexual manner, or in a manner in which I am found attractive. I should not fear this, but commitment is hard to handle. Being friends with someone is hard enough when you have a damaged mind, and having a crush on someone is the worst thing. I keep denying all feeling, and all of the ways I could destroy myself seem to beckon to me. They have always been there. Addiction to things that make me feel less beautiful, but help me sort out my feelings. A canvas of skin, a canvas of paper or tile, ink of red or black, pain of varying levels. Thoughts of a dangerous variety taking told on me, begging me to comfort my demons again. They speak me fair and tell me they love me. I speak of love and kisses and falling, but I've never loved in my life. I have never kissed. I have never run back into someone's arms except this monster. I have given my monster a persona, letting him take form in my mind as a real being. He is the boy that your dad would kill for even looking at you, and the boy that if you fall for, he will break your heart so deliberately that you think it's his job. I have given him power in this form. My monster is a combination of my addiction and my ruined soul. He beats me, but as soon as I'm crying, he's back to comfort me. He uses beautiful words for terrible feelings. He keeps me content in a sense that I know I'll never escape, so why try? There's no logic in reaching for something you're not tall enough for, and there's no logic in taking caution when you know it'll be abandoned. Even when he leaves me for a month, he comes crawling back, crying. I am an idiot, I take pity and let him back in. Sometimes it's in the form of a new friend, a forgotten text, an empty compliment given to receive a favor. He waits for my weak spots and devices me. So when I'm told I'm beautiful, I can't help but laugh. Beautiful people could not deal with him. He is much too evil, and to let him in, there's a level of corruption that must already be met. He is cunning and sly. He lets me live on my own, knowing I will never be truly sufficient. He lets me be happy for a long time, but he comes in and takes it all away with the mention of one word. He will never be satisfied, and if that's how love works, I want no part of it. I'm supposed to love myself. I'm supposed to treat myself right. I can not do something as simple as that. I'm supposed to love myself, and I treat myself with such a horrible standard that I let anyone love me. I let anyone in, yet I tell no one anything. I am all but gone. My heart beats too fast for my beauty to exist. To love yourself is the first step for others to be able to love you.