Yes, I'm not "normal" as the people with a black-and-white mindset would put it. I'm a fucking lesbian. I am rough, tomboyish and I have a truck license, I swear a lot, but if I'm called a truck-lesbian, I'm punching. Or kicking. I'm more... demisexual, I don't necessarily feel too attracted to other people, some celebs get my engines revving, for a couple of months until I'm just meh, they are good looking. I'd rather just write raunchy shite of them. =D That's what I do.
I'm not a simple person personality-wise. I think. How the hell should I know? I just exist, not thinking of myself much. Not many deem me irreplaceable. One person at least. That's all that matters to me, but outside our home, that's when it does matter who else thinks I'm too important to lose. I dunno how many think that way, nobody says it to my face really. At least according to my shoddy memory.
I'm not sure is the category right still, but since people just LOVE sticking labels to things... *shrug* Whatever floats yer boat.
That's when it curves to myself again. How I see myself. How I literally see myself. I don't see myself much different from when I was 15 or something, I still feel the same. Just someone who can slip through the crowd and vanish without anybody noticing. I've liked different clothes as a kid, but I always got ruthlessly bullied because of them later, so granny told me that I should tell them what is the current style people are wearing at school, so they can buy me clothes more like theirs. In the end, I didn't give a shit. I wore whatever I pulled from my closet of people brought me. Unless they were toe-socks. I hated them. Felt like my toes had no circulation. Fuck that was a nasty phase in fashion, faded soon though. Phew.
I did always feel like I couldn't wear anything without getting shit. Whether it was a cozy Minnie Mouse black and magenta hoodie (took up wearing a fleece vest over it) or full pink almost matching pants and shirt, yellow woolly socks I partially made myself, burgundy winter boots (two different pairs, I had scraps of food, broken forks, and spoons in them or they were held hostage and tossed outside or around the school by complete strangers)... the list goes on... I tried to be normal and I got shit, I wore something I liked and got shit.
You don't walk away from that without issues. I'd probably still need a rage room, you can rent it for a small fee and are given a baseball bat to just destroy everything to vent out the rage. I need that. I'm not even kidding. All former classmates still deserve a fist in the face.
I've always been called fat. School nurse put me on a diet in elementary. Granny was pissed. Who fucking counts how many slices of sausage or cheese you can put on your bread and how many glasses of milk you can drink as a kid?! I have granny's body type and she sadly did tell me that and to stop dreaming of losing weight, when I was really trying and I needed support. I took a habit of sucking in my stomach after I was mistaken to be pregnant by one Chinese restaurant owner. I only went there once after that, shame, they had dumplings. The only place that makes dumplings.
My junior high classmate, who was alright, a bit too rough sometimes even from my point of view, once told me of what she thought when she first saw me. She had thought that "there's a girl who'd be really beautiful if she only took care of her looks." I've tried caring for my looks, but what for really? If I blend in the crowd with uncombed hair and hand-me-down clothes and don't get bullied for it, sign me up.
I liked the princess dresses as a kid, but it got embarrassing over the years. I never saw myself cute, despite what people said. I have a handful of pictures as an adult that I can actually look at and not cringe. I can't look at the wedding photos. I saw one and I just wanted to delete them all. I never realized I was so fat. I didn't pay attention to my figure, just keeping myself from freaking out over the fact I was in the spotlight with her.
I just can't look at the pictures. I can't. I hate my double chin, my belly, my thick thighs, I don't mind my big ass, though I keep knocking everything off with it as I try to sneak past. I rather wear black and baggy to hide myself. During summer, I wear lighter clothes, but even then, it's a struggle. I have days when I can wear anything and not care, then there are days I try to doll up and then just... not go...
Ugh, body positivity. Sure, it can help, young people need better role models, to know it's ok to be what you are, but... To me, it's just sure, rub it in. I am like this, but I don't' want to be like this, but there's fucking nothing I can do. I can't keep up habits long enough for my routines (what little I have, actually none...) to change permanently. I don't have that motivation. Wow, here it is again. Motivation. I don't have much of it.
Why I can't function like a regular human being?! Look at the mirror and smile at the reflection. All I see is somebody who should get her shit together. Somebody who shouldn't go out in the public at all for the sake of sparing them of nightmares. Sometimes I just... sit and wonder how can somebody love me despite being like this, I don't understand it. I know love doesn't care about looks and so what if she looks what she looks? I love her. She says the same. ...I just don't love myself. Opposite of love isn't hate, but ignorance. Now that is what I mostly feel towards myself. So what. I didn't have the best of role models as a kid, no matter which way you tilt your head, I think it all stems from there. I was often humiliated in front of people, I still have huge difficulties to go in front of people. It causes me anxiety.
I do have some form of panic disorder or anxiety disorder. At some points, it does hinder my life. I can't up and go to the archery club anymore. I felt so inferior there it wasn't even funny and all the attention on how we were doing was insane...
I can't listen to my own voice without feeling humiliated by how it sounds. I can listen through my videos once or twice, then post them, but never listen to them myself again. Or listen to somebody listen to them. I wanted to become a voice actor, but I don't have enough talent and guts for that.
I was asked to give my name and my parents' names in to microphone as a kid. I wasn't really told of my whole fucked up family situation then and I called my granny -mom-. Who else, she was only mother figure I fucking had! Easy for you lucky shits with both parents! Everybody was staring at me and I managed to stammer something, but it was humiliating. I didn't remember my granny's name and I was so confused. I'd still love to stick a knife to the teacher's throat for that and bomb the whole room. All the smiles ever since have felt like a mockery. All nice words I've gotten have always turned out to be lies. I don't really trust kind words, because they are always a mask to me. It's easy for me to lie in people's faces for that. Hide. Hide fucking everything.
Why people always humiliate me? Pick on me? What the fuck is wrong with me and you?! Why me?! What the everloving fuck have I ever done to you?!
If one could get away with murder, I'd have a long trail of bodies behind me. And all my inner demons would be silenced forever.
Well, one can dream. At least it's free, even though I don't really dream anymore, what's the use really? You'll just get disappointed when the dream ends. Life just fucking loves shitting in the fan. Getting just really tired and fed up with all the shit.
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