Blessed

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Why with all the change?

I don’t know.Well,maybe I do and let me tell you the fucking reasons why.

Not everyone is blessed with a perfect slim physique,blessed with the perfectly saint-made face.Clear as crystal skin.The person over there with the hella good hair.Not everyone’s got the upperhand in life.We just happen to have to work hard for these things,get things fixed and have little time to enjoy the fun-little things in life.We’re missing out because we’re too busy.Too busy of dying to be perfect.

As much as you’d tell me that you love yourself and you’re perfect in every way and you won’t change a single thing in you…..

I won’t be believing you.You are lying.
As if your insecurities won’t come knocking by your “confidence door” and be blasting tons of shitloads pinpointing all of your imperfections.

Maybe I do believe you.And you’re telling the truth.And I’m super envious because you’re too perfect.Too good.You don’t need to get anything fixed.They’ve got creams for that to get it fixed.And with all your talks,you’re just making me far more insecure,unconfident,depressed,down and downright uncomfortable in my very own skin.

You’re perfect yourself in every way.Physically-Mentally-Spiritually and emotionally speaking.You’ve got the most benevolent attitude towards humans and things.You’ve got the temper of the calm winds,the face of a holy saint,the body of a greek god/goddess,the brains and the talent.

You’ve got it all!

Why can’t I be you?I’m trying too hard to be,but I dont want to be called a copy cat or a try hard.

Why wasn’t I included in the fortunate ones to be one of you people?

How does it feel to actually unpretentiously walk around town with confidence,with your head held high and not feel deep-down insecure?

The way that people drag their eyes down to your toe and up to your face,giving you a very uncomfortable,judgy glance.

The after-glance reaction which always ends up with a laugh and mumbled harsh words that come out of their mouths,while you’re pretending to not hear it but you did and it affects you deeply and it’s too much.You can’t break down in public like that.

Go ahead and cry it out at home at night in your bed on your pillows whilst hiding under the blankets.Rather than worrying about being a nuisance of pouring your tears to someone.

Pillows don’t speak and they don’t judge.
They listen and comfort.

Lucky you…

You get them pimples every once in a blue moon.Lucky you that you only get them in the face.

I get mine all over that my skin feels so much like it’s forming constellations of unknown stars all over my body.

A connect the dots on a children’s activity book.

Lucky you…
you don’t have lines all over your body that forms roadways and trailtracks to a place that leads to nothing but narrowing dead ends.

Lucky you…
You get to bag up foods in you and not gain weight.

Lucky you..
You get to have that extra caloric intake.

Lucky you…
You’re liked,loved and adored almost instantly.You got the looks.Everyone,no matter how much they tell you that looks don’t matter and it’s what’s in the inside is that matters…Good looks will still matter more.

Sometimes I wonder if suicide then getting reincarnated to a body that is perfect is a possible type of restart in life.But it makes me think that suicide is just one straight ticket for you to go to nowhere.If heaven of hell do exist…I’m pretty sure it’ll be like life during the living moments.

Hell…..

Yes,You can get things fixed….
But do you have the money to get your shit to be fucking fixed?Even you have dig up dirt and save up ages before getting it to be professionally fixed.We’re turning into some livinh sculpture where a person gets to sculp and reshape you into a masterpiece,but sometimes,you end up to be someone’s failed piece.

…..

We have to know that we’re not all created equally in the eyes of God.That some people got imperfections and some are just plain perfect in every single way.

We have to know that some people,and someone will love us just the way we are.Accept the imperfections in us.

….

Till someone better comes along.Because there always is.

We’re just as disposable as hospital gloves.We get used and we’re thrown away.

Why change?

Maybe because..I want to feel fucking wanted for nothing for once.And not needed because I got something they need.

A fucking favor.
The “can I borrow…?”
The helper when you need a hand.

Neither does it make me feel any close to being better.

I told myself that I’ll stop being good.I’ve been told a fucking million times that I’m too kind.That I help too much.

I was told too that I should let my anger explode so people would learn to not abuse and take me for granted.

That being said lead to nothing but:

1. Anger issues.The ones that bursts out almost instantly which happens alot to people who I’m close with.Relatives,Close friends.

2. Anger retained deep inside that keeps on stacking and building up.Which I want to get out of my chest so much.

That’s just me…

And I always remind myself that I’ll never be one of those people in the “Perfect people’s club” even though I know that nobody is fucking perfect…

That there’s always room for improvement and on bettering myself.Because everyone needs a change in life somehow.

But I need to remind myself that I’ll do it all for me and not for anyone else.

-LA09