Beauty is Pain

Beauty is pain; that’s what I tell myself. When I wake up. When I go to bed, latched to my squish-mellow. The cozy one. The one that I pretend is my husband’s chest. My husband, the sweet, beautiful man that I see in my dreams. The one who doesn’t seem to exist. I can say that now, at 23 I’m still alone. I waited for him to come. I worked too hard, and then too little.

I laid in this bed waiting for him, He’s all I ever wanted. I didn’t need a professional job, or a luxurious car. I always believed my hero would come, and at 23, I can say he never did.

Instead, I met posers. Men who took advantage of my vulnerability and wide eyes for the world. They used my body. They still try to, I look innocent. It’s a sad truth that in this masculine society, not all of us girls get the Disney movie prince right away. We have media, and sometimes it makes us feel like we aren’t worthy, and that we need to act like men to be good enough. In reality, this isn’t true. If a man wanted a girl who acted like a boy, and focused on her career all the time, than he would be gay. I wish someone would’ve taught me this earlier in life, but nobody loved me enough to. I was forced to be independent, but the whole time, I dreamed that someone would come save me.

Around 20, I felt time creeping up on me. I began with dating apps. It’s ok though right?? Everybody uses them. No it’s not, I have a secret! I’m 23 years old, and my body count is over 25. I loved all of them, I found reasons to. It was hard for me to tell them no. Love was always such a strong, powerful emotion for me.

I would never tell this to a man, I feel so embarassed and ashamed about this. I know I did this to myself, but it hurts me so much to know that if they knew this, they would NEVER love me. When they ask, I tell them it’s 4. I look very young, and I stay very clean so they always believe me. I tried😭. I didn’t intend for this to happen. To be this tired. To know that someone would tell you that they love you, just so that they can have sex with you. How cruel people can be.

My father was a very abusive man, and caused me to have a very low self esteem. He abandoned me when I was in high school. I was the oldest of six children. He never loved any of us, and I knew that. He beat us my whole childhood, and my mother. He would cheat on her. Eventually, we got away from him, but we were homeless because of it.

This is when the real pain started, watching everyone else live their lives. We were poor, I didn’t feel like the other kids would want to spend time around me. I felt judged. My confidence was shattered, we couldn’t afford clothes for a while. The ones I had to wear were always too big and awkward looking on me. I felt like another parent, and that’s ok, I always did. I always wanted to be a mommy anyway, and still do.

Then came my late teens, I was a virgin until I was 18. I was always so boy crazy, I’m surprised I held it in that long. Boys always liked me, but I never let any of them in. Nobody ever really knew me, I was embarassed. I painted on a fake smile. It was to the dating apps for me. My heart aches. I’ve given these men pieces of my heart, and my soul when I really felt like I needed them. Girls, being a “slut” is not ok. When we have sex with men, we form a bond with them that can’t be broken. It’s an attachment. Don’t do this to yourself like I have, especially too many times.

Sometimes, the pain I feel on a daily basis is paralyzing. They think my ADHD is causing this, but I only let them think this. It’s not. I’m sad. I’ve lost my brother. My family was recently homeless again for no reason other than the housing market, but as a tired woman, this was too much to handle for me. It made it worse, I had to move so much stuff.

I have many addictions that nobody knows about. I don’t want to be alone, but at the same time I do, just so I can lay here and fantasize. I’ve always loved the fantasy that I’m Sleeping Beauty, and that some mean ol’ witch would prick my finger and I’d be forced to sleep like her. A sleep, forever. Without pain. That way, I won’t need anyone or anything.

Yes, judge me if you want. I’m a tattered, used up, dishrag of a girl. The stereotype of a sad girl, hiding behind a fake smile. An addict. I’ve been thrown out of homes, I’ve been beaten like a man, and I’ve been bullied for no reason. But I am beautiful. I know I am. I’m gorgeous. Everyone thinks it. You wouldn’t know any of this about me if you met me in person, however, I always dreamed someone would. He’d grab me by the hand and take me. He would tell me that nobody will ever hurt me again. He’d tell me that he knows I’m sad, and that it was never my fault.

Instead, they think I’m an angel, and if they don’t, they’re jelous of me. I’m in constant pain. I’m targeted. I’ve been constantly failed, and dissapointed. Doing my make up helps me feel better. It helps me forget for a bit, a temporary way of becoming grounded. I should start drawing on my tears, maybe that way, people will finally get the memo??