I wish bluepillers were right. I wish I could believe that with enough effort, I could change, that I could become someone worthy of love and attention. But they don’t understand what it’s like to wake up every day knowing that no matter how hard I try, I’ll always be ugly.
I’ve tried to change myself, tried to be better, to fit in, to be someone people would care about. But every time I look in the mirror, I’m reminded of how deep the flaw goes. No amount of effort can fix what I see—no amount of improvement can erase the fact that I’ll always be the one who gets overlooked, ignored, and hated. I see others get what I’ve always wanted: attention, affection, connection. And I’m left here waiting.
The worst part is that no one cares to understand. They tell me to try harder, to be more positive, but they don’t see what’s really going on inside. They don’t feel the pain that comes with knowing you’ll never be seen as anything more than what’s wrong with the world. I wish I could escape this feeling, this burden of ugliness, but it’s always there, reminding me of how little I matter.
I’ve tried to change myself, tried to be better, to fit in, to be someone people would care about. But every time I look in the mirror, I’m reminded of how deep the flaw goes. No amount of effort can fix what I see—no amount of improvement can erase the fact that I’ll always be the one who gets overlooked, ignored, and hated. I see others get what I’ve always wanted: attention, affection, connection. And I’m left here waiting.
The worst part is that no one cares to understand. They tell me to try harder, to be more positive, but they don’t see what’s really going on inside. They don’t feel the pain that comes with knowing you’ll never be seen as anything more than what’s wrong with the world. I wish I could escape this feeling, this burden of ugliness, but it’s always there, reminding me of how little I matter.
