A Little Insecure Girl

This was written 2 nights ago. I won’t apologize for this. We all have our moments…

It’s funny how a random stranger whom you’ve met in a bar, and who lives a thousand miles away can make you realize and accept things that have always been in existence but you’ve tried so hard and so long to deny.

It’s 3 am now and I’m in some foreign land. I just got back from a party in a club and I felt my cheeks get warm from the streaming tears as I walked my way back to the apartment… alone. This place doesn’t seem to have people. Only the misty lights in the lake and the cigarette stick were my company. Things sunk in, memories flashed back, all of a sudden, it was lonely.

I was lonely.

It dawned on me that maybe, just maybe, my hunch was true after all – that the psychic scars left by my own self believing I was and AM ugly or not good enough had taken its toll on my character.

It hit me hard, really, especially since I knew I wasn’t getting any younger. Issues like these are faced by adolescents, not by working professionals. Or probably a lot of people feel the same way as I do, too.

I know I have written about this quite a number of times already and like a recurring bad nightmare, it had always been haunting me. I don’t know why but no matter what, I can never see my self as someone beautiful. It’s something subjective, I know, but I AM THE SUBJECT and it’s frustrating for me to be advocating acceptance of oneself when I know I struggle with it a lot as well.

I felt so out-of-place earlier. I was in my jeans and chucks and every other girl was dressed up like there’s no tomorrow. I honestly didn’t want to attend because I knew it was going to be tough for me. It might turn people off but sometimes I really hate the fact that I just don’t care – that I come out on video without make-up, that I make fun of myself just for the heck of it, that I pretend things and words don’t hurt me when deep inside, they really do.

A guy once told me that my humor is but a defense mechanism. I try to crack jokes and stay in the friends zone because I am afraid of something. What it is, I have no clue. But what bites more is the realization that he is in fact right. I tend to freak out and be uptight and all my defenses go up when things get too hot for my own standards.

The club was packed with people and though I’m generally a people-person, I felt out of my element there, suffocated even. It didn’t help, too that a guy I kind of like was but a few feet from me yet light years away. What the hell was I thinking even considering that maybe, just maybe, he will come up to me and strike up a conversation? I mean, who the fuck am I anyway? There are other hotter girls out there in skimpier clothes and with bigger boobs. I was in my fuckin’ hoodie. And pants. And I couldn’t even get my self to dance sexily because for crying out loud, they were playing trip hop.

The stranger I was talking to said I shouldn’t sell my self short. Do I sell my self short? Or have I just accepted the fact of life that seriously, I am a nobody. All the make up and shit can’t conceal the scars anymore. All the achievements and ambitions can no longer make up for the hidden resentments I have for my self. Hell, what accomplishments am I even talking about anyway? What have I proven or done exactly? Nothing much.

I even sometimes hate that I am so honest about my feelings and I pour out my heart and soul even to random strangers and people like you who read this blog. I hate that as much as I try, I JUST DON’T SEE WHY I SHOULD MATTER SOMETIMES. Do I really matter? Really? Because in moments like these, I feel like that’s just what I’ve been making my self believe all this time.

And no matter what people think of me and of what I do, maybe, just maybe, at the end of the day, I am just an insecure, little girl. And it’s not the alcohol talking. This is me telling you that in this very minute, very second, it’s kind of hard to see my worth.

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