no shame november

I know you’re the one who told me that if I wanted to do this, then I should. So here I am, typing this submission with you on my mind. You’re really there more than you should be and it puts me off. Not in a bad way I suppose. So now I will admit that I am a coward in a post that is supposed to be me showing my bravery of some sort. Honestly, I am the biggest coward I know. Perhaps it’s because I know enough of my flaws. They add to my insecurities and on certain days they eat me alive from the inside, but it’s not everyday.

I know you think that I don’t think highly of myself. It’s because I found it easy to open up to you about all those insecurities. Really, I am quite conceited. I am attractive, I am smart, and I am comfortable in my own skin. I have an ego that isn’t large, but it’s enough for anyone to be annoyed. I’m sorry you don’t see how confident I can be. I’m sorry that you have only heard my doubts. I’m sure I owe you more than that.

The reason I’m a coward would stem from my past, I guess. I was depressed, I cut, I almost threw away my life on several occasions. I just didn’t care. I doubted anyone who said they cared for me. I’ve been questioned so many times by so many people, but I refuse to receive treatment. Now, I should stop there and mentioned that I no longer cut. It’s the depression that gets to me and I won’t receive treatment for it. It’s not that I think I know enough. It’s because I’ve asked for it once and I think it broke my father’s heart. He’s been through enough. He shouldn’t worry about the fact that something is wrong with his child.

When you hear the word depression, you think, “Well, someone needs to make this person happy.” It’s really not that simple and I’m sure that’s what my father thought. There was something wrong with me and I wasn’t happy. That must mean he wasn’t being a good parent! No, that wasn’t the case and even though I’m 18 now I still refuse treatment. Half of me is used to it, but the other half tells me that I can’t let anyone know if I did receive treatment. The fact that I still live at home with my father practically guarantees that he’ll be the one paying for it because I’m not capable yet. I never want to see that same heartbroken look on his face so I will never bring it up again.

Instead, I’ll go everyday of my life wondering what the difference would have been. Would I still struggle this much? Would I still feel as low as I did on those certain days? Realistically, I haven’t done enough to be considered a whore, but I still feel it. I still think I’ve dirtied myself more than I should have. By that I mean, I’ve done things I never thought I’d do and out of this post I may never speak of it again. Even if I’m being that vague about it. I lost myself and sometimes it’s best kept that way. I’m a good little puppet and a precious little doll. I can be what you want me to be, but I’m fighting for a grip on reality and myself. Most people fight their demons. I’ve embraced them as part of me and I will either be rid of them at some point or they will do away with me. It’s like a waiting game to see who will pop first.

Even on my best days I question my worth. I lose sight of my goals and I’m not who I thought I was. I can still walk proudly, take compliments, and get what I need done. I just don’t know what for. I don’t know my name, my age, my interests… I’m a completely different person with a completely different view of the world. I am watching this person live my life until they are satisfied and then it’s me again. I can only be so sure that my mind is playing with me. I’m supposed to be brave in this post. I’ve admitted what scares me, but I still feel like I did in the beginning. I’m still a coward because I know my flaws. I will never be perfect and I don’t want to be, but no matter where I go or what I do, I will always push my limits until I break them. I will keep pushing myself until I’m broken to bits and have to put myself back together again. Then, maybe one day I won’t feel like a coward anymore.

(whistlebotsattack)