god, it was horrible, to feel so terrible about myself. for the first time in months, i felt my heart close up like a trap, and i felt my inside arms wrap tissue paper around it and slip it into a shoebox and put it at the back of the closet, for safekeeping.

and that feeling, that old "i am such a terrible, ugly person that i will be alone for the rest of my life, and i don't even want to TRY to let other people in because they will run screaming" feeling

i almost started crying.

there is no greater crime a girl can commit in this world than being ugly, and sometimes i feel like a criminal. not as often as before--where i would wake up and avoid the mirror and dress in the dark (thank god all my clothes match each other, i'm a walking garanimal), sit on the edge of my bed and put my face in my hands and just kind of brace myself against the world so i could get ready for my day--but sometimes i still feel like that.

where i wish i could cover myself in bandages, like in that show by joe frank, red sea,

"there was a time when i looked in the mirror and i could see nothing. there was a space where i was supposed to be--i realized i'd become invisible.

so i wrapped my head in white gauze, leaving two holes for my invisible eyes to look through, which i covered with a pair of dark sunglasses.

and i put my clothes on over the rest of my body, and covered my invisible hands with a pair of white gloves."

there have been so many times i have wished myself invisible, believed myself as so, tried to disappear into everything around me.

one of my english professors at school asked me why i was so quiet, if i thought i could somehow disappear. i responded that often i wished i could.

and he told me that i was here, and i was visible, and that i should get used to it already.

and that night i cried and cried and cried.

but lately i haven't felt invisible, and i haven't wanted to hide, and i have been smiling and happy and friendly to everyone and feeling so so so good.

but tonight, for a little while, it came crashing down all over me. i wanted to crawl under my desk at work, i wanted to slip into bed as soon as i got home.

and somehow, 4 hrs later, i feel ok again. i am almost smiling and i feel hopeful for my life again.

but feeling that dark again, feeling that sadness, feeling that awful hatred of myself, feeling my heart close up like that--it scared me to death.

i don't want to feel like that anymore. i don't want to look at my shoes when i walk, afraid to look people in the eye. i don't want my voice to turn into a small whisper, i don't want to look through people and hope they are looking through me.

i have hidden for so long and it made my life terrible and lonely and cold.

and even if i am a criminal for looking the way i do, i can't make that ruin the whole of my life. i can't agree with people who overlook everything else about me because i don't fit their idea of what beautiful is, even if they discount me immediately because of it.

there's nothing that says they know more about me and my life than i do, and there's nothing that says that they get to decide my worth and what i'm allowed to do and how high i get to hold my head.

there's nothing that demands that i hide myself, even if everyone else in the world can't look at me. that's their fucking problem, not mine.

now, if i could just feel that, in my heart and in my fingers and toes. well.

if i could do that, i'll be able to kick holes in all the walls in the world.

it's just so fucking hard, is all.

making your life a work of art is so god damned hard.

but what other choice do i have?

if i am going to be the person i want to be, if i want to be brave, well, i have to be able to look people in the eye.

i have to be prepared to offer my heart in my little open hands and not be afraid that it'll get bruised and smashed and maybe even blown apart.

i have to.

because in the end, i make my life, no one else does.

and if i want to be able to hold my head high, and enjoy everything that i really really want to, i have to be brave.

and even though i have scraped, bruised, scarred knees from falling down, i will keep getting back up.

because scars and bruises tell stories and keep all our secrets.