I'm just a few words forgotten. Temporary. 

There are days when I hate being in my skin, days when I feel trapped in a repulsive room, disappointed by the fact that I can't meet my ideals. One thing I have disregarded as a norm is the feeling of discomfort when I see raw images of myself. I'm not fond of the creeping feeling I get when I see my insecurities flaring up. I hide behind fake portrayals to avoid such feelings. Eventually, I fool myself into thinking these fake identities are truths. I'm trying to learn that no person loves themselves one hundred percent, one hundred percent of the time. There's always going to be that one 'thing.' With that said, it's a blessing to have a capable vessel. Despite all the shortcomings of our bodies, we must approach it as we do with a gift, with honest, complete appreciation. 

  Lately, I've been feeling extremely aggravated by how you've been acting. On the few occasions where we can interact, you make an effort to be avoidant. Why is that? What's the point of you being around if we aren't even trying to bond or get along? Am I just overthinking this? Am I simply jealous of what others have with you? You know, I've been very insecure about how I should go about approaching you; it feels like any wrong move will split us farther apart. I know you don't hate me, but I hate this stagnation in our relationship. The root of all this frustration is I can't seem to connect with you, and any effort to try will only make things worse. On top of all that, I think you're purposeful; and the knowledge of my fragility does not bother you. I started feeling like you don't want me at all in any context, like I'm a burden, worthless, just some meaningless weed extremely root bound in your flower bed of perfect people. I feel like an ...

Do you ever just feel insecure about sharing your interests? Sometimes I worry too much about whether people think I'm too much of something. My biggest insecurity is people thinking I'm too weird. I want to feel like I'm free to like whatever I like, but I think people expect me to conform to some standard. My mind spins, thinking about whether I've earned approval. It's one to say all approval I'm ever going to need is from myself, and it's another to actually be in a sea of eyes.