Vent. Don't care if people read this.
It's hard to describe this feeling. A feeling that I am ugly and unlovable, even in all my efforts, I cannot escape it. I am indulging in this dark voice by writing about it however, I am also telling it to shut up.
I went into the Adelaide CBD today in hope of finding clothes that would actually make me feel cute. I wandered around the petty selection of shops Adelaide offers for casual clothes. I want a black dress. Not even a dress, something that goes all the way to the floor and wraps me in a simple sort of elegance. I wish it was heavy fabric like a medieval garment, I thought fancifully, knowing I'm better off cosplaying. I want to feel special. Yeah, fat chance I could find that at Cotton On.
The problem is, every time I get an urge to dress a certain way and begin to fantasise about a thing that will make me happy, I fail.
I suck at everything.
There it comes again, self loathing.
I tried buying some 'street clothes' style pants a month or so ago online, because I was feeling a bit on the tomboyish side. I thought it might make me happy to wear cargo pants. In the end these pants maybe look strange on me. I couldn't really pull of the tomboyish look, then what look do I have? I go through phases of trying to slightly change and often feel distress over something so stupid. Why?
Because I eye my body. From skin to hair to thickness of my limbs, I critique them. I have struggled with these body dysphoric feelings a very long time. I even took dietting too far when I was 15 and became so anorexic my hair thinned out. People tell me I look really fit or that they admire by body, but it changes constantly in my mind's eye. I mostly see myself as a redhead with massive flabby thighs.
In those cargo pants, my legs were far too large and curvy for my liking. This is where I wanted to say that this dysphoria is caused by certain pieces of clothing, it's easy to get upset wearing badly fitting things.
I turn to writing and art because I will never express myself with this body. Even by devoting myself to fitness, you can't escape internal unrest.
This is dysphoria. It will always be here. Some days I feel strong and slender, but somedays in certain outfits, I'm triggered into a negativity. Sports clothes emphasise my fitness so I spend entire days in them.
Somedays my mind is plagued by unrealistic thoughts. That everyone else has better fashion sense than me. A cleaner room, better life habits, not only that, they have a relationship of many years at least. They know what love is like they know being touched and felt and heard and...
I want to touch myself. I want to cry. I want to self harm. Anything to release these feelings. It pierces into my brain and seizes up in my heart.
I watched a YouTube video by one of my favorite youtubers. He casually mentioned that's it's unlikely two straight people, a man and a woman, could remain just friends if they had such chemistry and friendship. I understand his point.
However why do people assume that friendship means romantic compatibility. Why doesn't that assume I feel chemistry from how they talk, think, move and look at me? Why is it always an attack on two people who have 'sexual tension' instead of admitting that's bullshit.
Maybe nobody is willing to admit it that love has more to do with sharing hobbies, and more to do with gender. It has more to do than sapiosexuality, that being a cringe word even my dad uses to describe himself. Attraction is not something that is as cringe as playing the same videogame, it also isn't thinking you are attractive because of reciting stats from scientific papers. Barf.
So I have a coochie and know some nice men, so do I owe them my love, my body? What? They don't think I owe them anything, yet in my shame feeling like a broken woman, who fangirls over fictional cartoon men, I will always feel broken.
Yet this sort of attitude hurt deeply, because I reflected on all my male friendships and how with many of them, the tension became so apparent I was afraid to be alone with them. Is it my fault? Is that attraction, or fear of attraction. I refuse to be called defunt because of this. This concept is at the core of my pain, wondering if I lack the ability to love normal humans.
The thing I respect about Japan is that if you wanna marry a hologram of Hatsune Miku, you can do it. Does my love of fictional men mean I see men in an unrealistic way? Am I just a gross ugly girl that escapes from my incompetency through imaginary lovers?
Last year, I cut myself a bit. With some glass I had broken. I picked up a glittering piece and took it to my calf. It wasn't deep, it didn't help, but I did it anyways.
When this voice is overpowering me, what can I do?
I turn inwards to things I'm good at. Which isn't much. I ain't good at much. Watching other stupid videos, playing music, eating something decent or playing with dogs helped. Not all feelings need to be fixed by thought.
I don't want to interact with the real world if people only see me for my exterior form. The effort it takes for me to even leave my home not looking filthy is enormous. I don't have died hair and a trendy goth outfit. I don't have clothes bought from online stores and makeup on my face. I just have me, for this crusty exterior, sad tied eyes and crying soul.
I had horrible stomach issues today due to drinking too much coffee. I had to run into a public bathroom as my stomach gurgled and threatened to make a mess right then and there.
It has been a painful day. Yesterday was painful too. It usually happens that these dark feelings surge up for a few days, but subside eventually. There is a natural flow to things. I don't want to suffer, but somedays I become so angry, tired an frustrated with myself it cannot be stopped. Can I start to express these feelings, and find a way to feel stronger and more beautiful.
I wish it wasn't so hard to feel beautiful. I'm tired and upset and want to go home to my messy room, my piles of trashy clothes, and just lie there. Without judgement. And the pain I've felt being a single girl will fade away. I'll return to myself, and forget this wish of appearing any other way. The self loathing does go away.