Chapter 1

I’m guessing you want to know what I’ve had to go through to figure this philosophy out. Well, that’s what I’m about to do. I’ve been through some major ups and downs in my life; all due to my insecurities and what I think may be bordering on paranoia. I know, that makes it all my fault that I’ve never liked myself at all and I accept that. But the fact that I’m so hateful of myself has always clouded my ability to trust people around me; no matter how much I long for them to stay in my life as they make it seem a lot more worthwhile.

Never mind for now though. I’ll explain it all but, for now, let’s start at the beginning; shall we? You see; I’ve always been heavily self-conscious, I just started to show it more frequently in the past two (or maybe even three) years. The ironic thing is that the reason for which I am self-conscious and hateful of my body has changed over the last few years.

Up until the age of around 12, I couldn’t look at myself in the mirror without thinking to myself “Urgh. Put on some weight girl! You can see all your bones! And maybe then you’ll get some shape too! You could do with it!” Yes, you read that right. I used to tell myself I needed togainweight – not lose it like so many other people. Not only was I hateful of my shape but I hated how I didn’t really wear make-up and generally didn’t bother with straighteners or curlers. I just… didn’t bother trying to look better than I always did. You wanna know another thing I hated? How I was a pushover. I never really figured out how to reject someone’s request; no matter how much I didn’t want to comply. I guess that was down to wanting to feel wanted for whatever reason it was for. If it was so they had something to make them laugh, that would be me. If they wanted something, they’d ask me to get them it and I’d say “Okay, no problem”. If they wanted somewhere to go when it was raining, they’d come to my house and make themselves at home. Simple as that: I was used. As much as I hated it, I never had the courage to stand up for myself because I felt that I was wanted: so I coped.

I used to think of myself as the skinny girl who always had bags under her eyes and was always sat in the corner saying nothing: the one who was used and didn’t do anything about it. The one people talked to mostly when it benefitted them; not simply because they liked me and wanted to talk to me.

I was pathetic and I knew it.

You know the weird thing? Nobody seems to realise just how scarring and damaging to a person’s soul their insecurities can be. They don’t realise how feeling useless can make the person feel empty inside and as if they contribute to people’s lives in no positive ways. It can destroy someone.