The feeling.
It hurts. It hurts so fucking bad. The feeling of being deserted, of being left out, of not feeling necessary. It tears at my fucking soul. It makes me feel like the dumbest little fish in the bowl. Surrounded and trapped by more beautiful, more colorful, and more important fish. The feeling of fucking despising myself and feeling so inferior.
The feeling of speaking to my friend about something that excites or is important to me, yet they don't seem to care. They stare at me with those dead fucking eyes, they look around, they sigh, and they don't. Fucking. Care. It's that feeling where you start to feel like you're a child again. Your father is staring at his phone and "mhm-ing" at you. Before you simply turn around and leave, but he doesn't even fucking notice.
The feeling of being put on someone's team during P.E. and they moan and roll their eyes. "Ugh, now we're gonna lose." It hurts. It makes me feel every roll on my tummy, every dot on my hideous face. It makes me remember how weak I am, and not just physically. It makes me think about how horrid I must look in that fucking P.E. shirt. How those shorts must be clinging to my fat thighs, my flat ass, my plump tummy, and my disgusting rolls. My ugly double chin, my marcid skin, and scarred limbs. My frizzy and fluffy hair. The black headband that's covering my huge, blinding forehead in shame. The mascara that has worn away slowly throughout the school day, leaving my eyes looking like that of a raccoon. The sudden reminder of the sweat on my skin and the pink tint on my fat, ugly face.
The feeling of when I think I've drawn something amazing and I'm so fucking happy to show my mom, and then she just nods and says, "That's cute sweetie." as she turns back around. The feeling of how much I failed at making her excited. How badly I fail to make her proud. Make her happy. How badly I fail as a child. I go to my room and sit on my bed, staring at my scribbles with burning eyes. I grab the page and I tear it into scraps. Hot, stinging, silent tears make the pencil marks swim around the page.
The feeling of getting dressed in the morning and finally feeling pretty, and then somebody stares too long. They stare at how fat my tummy must look, how my thighs press together, how frizzy my hair is, how blotchy my makeup is, how unattractive my skin is, and simply how fucking horrible I must look. The feeling of looking down at your once pretty outfit and feeling like an overweight, hideous pig attempting to blend in with the swans.
The feeling of speaking to my friends and slowly letting my voice die down when I realize they simply don't give a shit. How they start another conversation and block out my voice, not caring how much it means to me. Oh, how bad it feels to die out and sit quietly, watching and nodding your head as they talk. The feeling of being interrupted and talked over. The feeling of speaking and they slowly nod and turn their head away, attention elsewhere.
The feeling of getting so excited about something but accidentally saying something that makes their face squint. The way my mouth shuts and I start picking at my short, ugly nails; Tugging at and biting the abused skin. The feeling of sitting in awkward silence and allowing the thoughts of regret, disgust, and self-hatred to swirl around in my mind. The feeling of feeling like the most morose, aggravating, impotent, uninteresting piece of shit in the entire world.
The feeling of going home at the end of the day and feeling utter and complete worthlessness, ugliness, and pure, filthy hatred for myself. Looking at myself in the mirror and mentally labeling everything wrong with me. Staring at my every imperfection and grasping my fat so hard it reddens and burns. Poking at my scars and pinching my chin and cheek fat until I break down and sob on the cold, tile floor.
The feeling of knowing I am a useless polotroon. It hurts a lot to feel like a foolish little kid again. A failure. A reject. An abomination. A naive little teen who just wants to fit in. It hurts.
