A nice friend reminded me of something.

He was right. Thinking about the little things, like getting dressed in the morning, to the big things, such as our mere existence, is crazy.

Why do we do the things we do? Why do we have to exist?

I began to imagine myself step out my front door, naked. I know how the world react- appalled, flabbergasted that I would go against the social construct of being clothed. The thing is, the only thing that would matter would be what I would be thinking. Of course, I wouldn't think I was going mad, because I would just be thinking of this 'philosophical' blog post that I am typing out right now. And, so many would try to ship me off to a mental institution after I explain to them that I 'don't care about having to wear clothes in public,' or the fact that I don't care if my hair is washed and well kempt. I don't care if I want to yell at the top of my lungs out of my window, or dance at a bus stop.

WHY DO WE WORRY?
WHY DO WE ALWAYS HAVE TO CAUTION OURSELVES?

I still don't like myself. Not one bit. In fact, even after this liberating discovering of not having to care what external factors influence me, I internally still hate myself. This is because the external factors dug their needles into my skin when I was young. They injected me with their poisonous thoughts, and they handed me filth. I took that filth, crushed it into a fine powder, and breathed it in. I licked it off of my lips, off of my fingers, and it all has consumed me. It has poisoned the way that I think of myself.

This is what happens. You let so many things trouble you, that you let them become a part of you.

I look back at the photos of me I middle school. I was beautiful. I didn't need to look better, I looked damn good then. Even in high school. And now, because I inhaled all of those dirty, dirty comments people fed to me, I am packing them on. Every inch of me is a word they have said to me. And I can't let it go. The more they pressure me, the more I grow. I am growing so much, and I now hate myself for letting this happen to me. I need to have blinders on. I can't listen to anyone anymore tell me how I should be.

I need to take the control into my own hands.
I am tired of hating myself.

Don't you dare say anything encouraging.
Don't tell me I am fine the way I am.

Your words don't mean a damn thing to me anymore.
You have made me the way I am:

A 5'10" piece of hatred.
Shut up.

Hej hej,

Any