To All the Girls Who Think They Are Misunderstood

Sometimes I feel like I was born to be misunderstood. Not many people get how I can be someone who deals with anxiety, depression, or even self confidence and body image issues. Someone like me who’s always the loudest in the room (or tries to be), someone like me who lives to make other people laugh, or feels the utmost happiest when the people around her are happy. You can meet me on the street and never be able to tell that I battle with inner demons every single day. I think a lot of people feel unwanted in their every day life but don’t understand why or thinks that nobody else would understand it. Well, I do.

Not many people know that someone like me can lay in her bed at night, alone, wishing she wouldn’t wake up the next day because sometimes this life isn’t worth living, or so I’ve heard. Thoughts racing 150 miles per hour, not knowing which to stop at first.

My Instagram is filled with glamorous pictures that were taken about 50 times until the perfect one was done, where you didn’t see my double chin, or my stomach wasn’t out too much. Traveling the world just to get away from each of my issues, but coming back to them when I get home.

I’m that girl that feels like she can’t and won’t be loved, because someone in her past made that very clear. Made it clear enough that every single person who comes her way, won’t be able to have her open up, making them leave sooner. That same person who told me he loved me and wouldn’t leave, but ended up finding something better.

Even the successes that come my way are so under appreciated because I feel that I could have done better. Could have gotten better grades, could have made more money, could have made someone happier. Could have even made myself happier, but failed in the process.

I could have even done something different, and not have gotten ghosted. Could have worded the last text differently, or not answered as quickly. The one who still doesn’t understand that she can’t love someone so quickly, or fix another broken person- when she isn’t completely fixed herself.

I’m the girl who has a lot of friends but none that really take the time to listen. The one who no one understands, or is told to “relax,” when there’s an anxiety attack on the horizon. I’m the girl who will have her whole night ruined because when she thought she’d be able to get the least bit of attention, it gets directed somewhere else.

The one who’s always surrounded by people, but somehow still always feels alone. Can’t seem to find the emotion in her every day life so she has to drown herself in tequila to finally cry. Which would be the only time she acknowledges she has a problem. But the problem isn’t her drinking, the problem is that she avoids all of the thoughts in her head with a good time, until that good time fades while all her issues appear.

I’m one of the two girls that walk into a room, and I’m not the one who people will think is pretty. I’m the girl who makes the funny joke in hopes the attention will go to her, just so people can notice for one second.

I one day wish to be the girl who will love herself enough to know life is worth living, life is beautiful. This pain is only temporary. I’ll be the girl now who hopes that one day, the pain will just all go away.