Fear and Loathing in Louisiana

Sometimes, I just want to give in.

I can’t possibly do everything. I can’t make everyone happy. I feel so worthless sometimes. I feel like I should be the perfect person and I can’t be—it makes me feel very inadequate.

I saw a postcard once in PostSecrets that said something along the lines of, “I feel pretty until I step outside.” That’s me.

I think for years I’ve given off the aura that I’m a strong person. I’m not. I’m really, really not. I’m so fragile on the inside it’s unbelievable. It’s really the little things that break me, though. Those tiny little actions that wear away my foundation.

I always seem to let people hurt me. I brush it off, say it’s okay, “Don’t worry, I’m fine.” I’m not. I hold onto things forever. I’m always going to remember that The Finn doesn’t love me anymore, that The Yankee just doesn’t think I’m quite attractive enough for him. Even if the words are taken back eventually, it’s not the same. I can’t help but think every time he looks at me or touches me, “Does he still feel that way?”

I fight demons of self-loathing every day and it makes me so tired.

Why can’t I be the person I want to be?

People ask me if I’m excited to go back to school. I say no, I say I feel indifferent.

I lied.

I’m terrified.