I punched myself in the stomach today.
A few times, actually.

And it hurt. A lot.

And I kept doing it.

I hate looking in the mirror and hating what I see. I hate sucking in my stomach and still hating what I see. I hate how I thought I was finally doing something right and it resulted in the exact opposite of what I wanted. I hate how I can’t even let myself for one second think I’m the slightest bit pretty.

Instead, I am ugly. And because I am so ugly, I deserve to feel pain. I kept punching myself, telling myself over and over that it’s all my fault. You do nothing right, I think to myself. You are ugly and worthless.

The worst part is I know I’m right. I am ugly. I know this for a fact. I have to put on heavy makeup before I leave the house just so I don’t have to force anyone to see how ugly I really am. Sometimes, but only sometimes, I’ll let myself think I look sort of normal, after my face is totally covered in various cosmetics. When all the makeup is taken off, I cannot be anything more than ugly.

I am worthless. I can’t do a thing that might be remotely useful. I don’t know how to do anything that might help someone in any way. And since I can’t give anything back, I have no right to ask for anything in the first place. I have no reason to believe that someone should take time out of their own lives to help me even just a little bit. I am off on my own, just like I deserve to be.