The worst part of it all

The worst part of it all is just not being able to be your self, or not wanting to be the center of attention like everyone’s meant to be because you fear someone’s will comment or ask about it. So you live a cocooned version of yourself, hiding and inesecure behind some red marks or discolored spots on your face like the man stuck behind a giant wall, or a fierce warrior behind a giant monster, or the prisoner held behind some steel bars. But the difference is I’m held up by my own insecurities and depression. Not by something physical, something I can’t make an excuse with because it’s all in my head. So when I tell friends I can’t go out, I can’t just say because my face is having a bad flair up.

I always seem to look at a mirror and think Jesus I’m ugly. Just constantly staring at the discolored spots like tattoos or battle scars. Feeling angry at the world for giving me this, then feeling angry at my self because these littlest marks don’t compare to the problems some people have, then you think ” fuck it” and think this is it, no more insecurity you don’t care anymore. And you feel some enjoyment thinking you will change. Going to bed without doing your nightly skin rituals.

Then you wake up the next morning and someone at work asks you “what’s wrong with your face bro!”


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