you dont fucking know me.
you dont know how hard i find it to even get out of bed in the mornings. you dont know that i make myself sick atleast three times a day. you dont know that my arms and thighs are covered in scars and cuts. you dont know that ive tried to kill myself before.
you dont know me.
it took so much for me to come out tonight. to actually leave the house, go out and have fun. i spent all day shopping for an outfit i actually looked ok in. i spent five hours fucking getting ready. i wanted to be happy tonight.
but you called me ugly. i dont know you. and you dont know me. but you grabbed me and called me a fat ugly cunt.
i had to go. i couldnt stand there and pretend i didnt care, when i’d spent years trying to believe that just maybe i wasnt as fucking disgusting as i saw myself.
you dont know that i spent an hour crying in the bathroom. security actually had to knock and see if i was ok. i cried my makeup off, and i cried until my false eyelashes came off. i scratched my thighs until they bled and i tore at my hair.
i hate myself for being so goddamn ugly.
you dont know that ive spent hundreds of pounds travelling too and from london, having meetings about getting plastic surgery.
you dont know that every night i fucking cry myself to sleep.
you dont know that the second i got in, i went straight to the bathroom and cut the fuck out of my wrist. partly because i hate myself. partly because i want to die.
you dont know how fucking unhappy i am.
and you dont even know that im writing this.