#15. You Don't Know My Story


You think you know me. You don't know me. You think you care. You don't care.  How can you possibly understand where I come from? You don't really see or feel the pain I go through. Even if you ask me if I'm okay, you still don't know what I'm going through. You don't know my story.

You don't know what's it like waking up in the morning hating your face and body. And staring at that hateful reflection of yourself in the mirror. I hate my face. I hate my body. It is so hard to tell myself that I have to get out of bed only to feel disgusted with the way I look. It's even harder to deal with the struggle when the people who are the closest to you, are the ones that demotivate you. I don't think people realize that it is extremely hurtful to call some "Fat". To body-shame someone. You say it's a harmless joke. You think it's funny. You don't know how much a statement can kill someone. You don't see how much damage I've done to my body.

Whether it is a strained leg keeping me from doing what I want to do, an internal injury that I constantly have to deal with or an illness that I am dealing with every single day, or the fact that I try to starve myself on some days... You don't know. The only thing that makes all of us alike is that we all feel the pain, some just more extreme than others. While some deal with it for weeks and others deal with it for years. The pain, the suffering, the feeling that it will never end. I rely on my "medication" to relieve the pain temporarily. I feel the pain on the inside while I look fine on the outside. Unless I complain or nag, others will never understand the pain I feel. You don't know that, you don't know how I constantly feel like a burden to others when asking for help even though I have no other choice. I want the pain to end, but apparently my body decides otherwise.

You don't know how much your constant "You're gaining weight" jokes and comments took a toll on my body. You don't know how I tried to skip my meals. How I looked up to the internet and searched "How to be anorexic". You think it's harmless. You don't know how I felt when I couldn't fit into my slim-fit shirts anymore. You don't know how hard I fell into depression and refused to eat for weeks. It's an indescribable feeling to not be able to fit yourself in your favorite dress, look at yourself in the mirror without feeling disgusted, and be envious of those with have the perfect figure. I have never been so frustrated at myself and felt so hopeless. I starved myself. That's why I have the scars on my body. And I don't think you could ever understand why I did that.

You don't know how much I loathe my face. I hate my face. I hate the scars. I hate the acne. I hate the uneven tone. It kills my self-esteem. I feel safe when there's make-up on my face. Even though it gets tiring to put on make-up even when I don't want to, I have to because, who else would want to take a second glance at me? I tried every method possible. The cleansers, toners, moisturizers... I tried. But my face is still the same for the past 6 years. I hate it. I feel extremely insecure without my make-up. So much to the point where I couldn't leave my place for school without applying them. All these make-up, they do damage my face. But hey, I get called "beautiful". It's better than being called "ugly", right?

Deeper and deeper, I fell. Trapped in the misery that I will never achieve the beauty standard that I want. Sometimes, you do wonder why I am hurting... I really wish you could understand though. I wish that the voice inside my head wouldn't threaten my very existence. It's hard to find ease.

Pain is a feeling that only the one feeling it can understand. So please, next time when I tell you that I'm in pain, and that your statements hurt, please realize that what I am showing you on the outside do not accurately represent how much I am hurting on the inside. Be aware that you do not understand and be aware that you can never feel what I am feeling every day. Maybe you do see me hurting, but you only see me hurting on the outside, and you do not understand the pain and the thoughts that is happening on the inside.

I can't do this alone. Maybe I really do need someone to show me how to do it. I can't love myself. I don't know how... But do you know? You don't, because you don't know my story.

A/N: I have debated many times writing this, in fear that others could not relate and in fear of this post turning out too personal. This fear caused me to rewrite it a million times and never publish it. This happened continuously until my boyfriend, Derrick, told me the pain he went through to get where he is right now. How he was unsatisfied with his body, and still is but he is recovering from the hurt in the past. This is for all of you that have been frustrated with your own body.

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