I grew up being told I was beautiful.
Typical white beauty.
"Oh, you better watch out when you're older, the boys will be breaking down the door."
I grew up thinking I was beautiful,
and with that, I grew up not trusting men.
I was told they only wanted one thing from beautiful girls like me,
and that I was to guard that thing, because it was precious.
Well, that thing was taken from me at eight years old, but that isn't the point of this poem.
I have never saw a boy and not thought about what he was thinking about me.
Talk about toxic feminimity, I mean,
how narcisistic did they raise me to be?
Now, I look into the mirror, and it breaks.
I break as the glass shatters, as the mirror recoils.
I hate everything about how I look.
I fucking loathe myself, and I can't figure out when I stopped believeing the people who told me I was pretty.
I feel annoying when I can't take a compliment,
but I cannot accept that anyone would find me attractive.
When a guy tells me I'm cute,
I look at myself,
at my boring face, my flat chest and my basic brown hair and eyes,
my mishappen body and my irritating personality,
and I figure he's joking.
He's making fun of me.
I've pushed away people who would probably be good for me,
and the only people I let near me are the people who treat me like shit.
I am so goddamn masochistic that I cannot allow myself to be loved.
Self-hate is this screwdriver that drills you deeper and deeper into the plank of misery.
I thought I was beautiful.
But really I am a fake, a real-life catfish,
because when I look in the mirror I see the inner ugliness,
and she sees nothing but the makeup I cake over the trainwreck.
I love her,
but it would be best for her if she hated me.