It feels like everyone’s on my case all the time.
My fiance’s parents are getting antsy at him to bug me to get a job, when all they will do when I /do/ get one is try and take all my money, because all the money they do have they spend on booze and drugs. He keeps bugging me to get a job and to go out more, because apparently i’m ‘happier’ when I do, but all going out feels like is a pain and causes me unnecessary stress because when I do go out, all I want to do is go home and cry because I feel like people are judging me wherever I go, because maybe I don’t look as nice as them, and I can’t afford nicer clothes, and I’m chubbier than I’d like to be and lack self confidence.
All work has ever done is make me want to die. I can never be good enough, no matter how hard I try, there’s always something I’m doing wrong, and I can’t deal with it. No-one seems to understand why I’m so reluctant to look for a new job, even when I’ve tried to explain myself they just roll their eyes and seem to think I’m exaggerating, or it’s a case of ‘willpower’.
NO. IT’S. FUCKING. NOT.
Maybe I’m happy staying indoors all the time. I don’t WANT social interaction, I don’t want a job, I don’t want to go outside, I want to stay indoors with my laptop, drawing and animating and doing the things that make ME happy and not feel like I’m such a fucking failure at everything I do. Drawing gives me purpose. My internet friends understand me far more than most people I know offline do.
The more I try to stay out of everyone’s way and not cause problems, the more people seem to be angry at me. It’s not like I’m doing anything wrong. I don’t bother my fiance’s parents, I stay out of their way, I don’t ask them for anything, in fact, half the time I end up paying for their internet/food/gas/electric out of my savings because they ‘run out’ of money, and my fiance’s broke because of uni.
I’d go back to my mum’s, but she’d be even worse.
I feel so lost. I just want to find myself an isolated hole to curl up and die in.
Snoop Dogg is going to tell us the meaning of Christmas.
Twas the nizzle before Christmizzle, and all through the hizzle…
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mizzle.
All were awaiting Sizzle Clause and his bag
To bring the good homies and bitches their swag
(Source: snooplionwearingsillyhats, via thelonelyhatter)
Now, I know you’ve probably heard this one a lot. Yes, it’s a very common problem. But sadly, it feels a little bit overwhelming most of the time for me to take. I am blessed with a loving other half who tells me endlessly that I’m beautiful and have a lovely body, I just wish I could see what he was seeing.
When I look in the mirror, all I see is a flabby stomach, horrifically large thighs that have never seen the likes of a thigh gap, chubby knees and fat calves, that make slightly more slender ankles and feet just look plain strange. The stretch marks on my thighs and hips just make me want to cry. I mean, yes, the obvious answer is to diet and exercise, but what motivation do I have if I hate myself so much that I can’t even bear to try.
I just want to be able to think I look sexy in lingerie, find myself acceptable in shorts or skirts, be able to go outside in a dress and NOT have to feel as if it’s mandatory for me to wear tights. I don’t want to feel like I want to die whenever I look at myself naked. I just want to accept myself.
You say all this about what you’d do if I left you.
Then you really ought to stop pushing me towards it.
Maybe you don’t realize, but every single thing you have ever done or said to hurt me, I remember. You don’t know why I get so iffy about certain things, certain characters to be specific. I remember things you’ve said, things you’ve done.
They fucking HURT. And they still do. Thanks a lot.