I know someone out there knows what I mean.
Coming from someone who once tried to end her own life, you might find it ironic that I'm now terrified of death. Partly because I have no idea what happens after, partly because I love my family and friends so much that I literally can't imagine not seeing them again. Life is beautiful and a gift.
I hate mine though.
I mean, don't get me wrong. I have an adorable, healthy daughter and I'm married to someone I love wholeheartedly. I won't ever regret becoming a wife and mother.
Yet, I don't feel like my life is worth living.
A lot of people don't pay much attention to me because I'm not beautiful. I don't really light up the room. Besides my close friends, and I have around five, no one is really interested in what I have to say.
My social anxiety makes it hard to find people who understand me. I wish I could talk more, but I'm used to either being ignored or talked over. Since I anticipate that happening, I clam up. It's worse with a group of women. I've just never fit in.
I want to go out with a group of friends and make unforgettable memories that become hilarious inside jokes. I want to feel like an equal. I want to get tagged in Instagram pictures at the bar, looking flawless in knee-high boots and perfect contour.
Besides that, I want to pursue my one true dream, which is acting. I want to learn an instrument so I can have a beautiful sound to match the good singing voice that I know I have, but am too scared to show off. I want to write a book.
I'm too scared of failure.
If I don't chase my dreams if the majority don't truly care what I have to say, then why am I here? People my age are doing so much more with their lives. They're interesting. They look and act perfectly in any social situation they're in. They're not wasting time. And here I am, at home. Hating my body, hating all of my clothes, avoiding human contact because years and years of bullying left lasting effects.
I want to do so much more.
The 22-year-old I dream of is absolutely crushing it in acting classes, getting closer and closer to the one goal she has always had. This girl is not embarrassed to go out with a group, because she's confident in herself and truly believes people want her there. She gets over her social anxiety, doesn't care what people think, and makes more friends because those around her see who she really is.
She learns to not hate her curly hair and finally buys that keyboard or guitar. She goes to coffee houses and shares the voice that only the walls of her tiny apartment are hearing. She makes her voice heard, even if it takes some time for people to listen. She makes the most of each moment.
This life that I'm living, is a waste.
If I'm not attractive, and not making friends, and not using my voice, then why am I even alive?
It's been a struggle to figure that out. Every day feels like the same episode on repeat, but the punchlines get less and less funny. It's like that old sweater in your closet that you want to get rid off, and it doesn't even flatter you anymore. But it's like, a really comfortable sweater. The song on the radio that you're sick of hearing, but you turn up the volume slightly anyway because it's better than silence.
I feel like a piece of furniture, never moving, never getting upholstered. I'm just here.
I don't want to waste it all. I want to be happy with this little life that I was given. I know I could be something. I know I could be worth it. But chapter 22 is almost finished, and I'm left wondering if the other chapters will bring a happier ending.
Thanks for reading the ramblings of a girl who has so much more to offer, but needs to find the strength to get out of bed first. I know not a lot of people will read, but it warms my heart that you did.
IF YOU OR SOMEONE YOU KNOW ARE STRUGGLING WITH SUICIDAL THOUGHTS AND/OR TENDENCIES, REACH OUT IMMEDIATELY. NO ONE SHOULD GO THROUGH THIS ALONE. SUICIDE IS SERIOUS.
National Suicide Hotline: 1 (800) 273-8255 - available 24/7