My insecurities have been somewhat building with the more time I spend to think about myself.
I'm too clingy. I'm bothering them. I'm lonely but I don't know how to talk to people. When I talk I talk to much, or not enough. I'm too quiet. I'm too outspoken. I'm defensive. I'm weird. I don't do what's expected of me. I don't belong. Is there a place I belong? Do I want to be alone? What do I want to do? I can't do anything right. My writing is the same. My words never change. I ramble, I shrink in, I explode randomly, I don't understand things, I'm afraid constantly, I don't have a plan, I don't have many friends, and I don't know hat I should do with my life.
To sum it up, I feel as though the word "FAILURE" is scrawled across my forehead, next to the word "FREAK" and "DESPERATE".
I don't like being touched and I flinch when people brush against me before rubbing at my arm or hand, wherever they did touch, and I get weird looks for it but I can't help the feeling of my skin crawling. I don't know how to explain my problems, because it's baggage no one wants to hear and I've trained myself to smile and say "I'm okay" when I really want to break down and cry. People don't understand my hate for taking medication, more specifically, pills, because they don't consider my past with attempted suicide because there's no scars on my wrists. I fear people to a degree that it has hindered my ability to go to doctors without my mother in the room with me. I'm an adult, I should be able to go to the doctors without fearing them, but I can't help it.
I choke on my words, so I write. But now when I write, everything feels the same. I haven't changed, I haven't grown, I just pretend. I can smile and chat. It's easy to mask discomfort with someone standing too close when I have a phone to hide behind. I hide my image behind baggy clothes, I prefer men's shirts and hoodies to women's, and I always go for the ones two sizes too big. Rarely do I leave my room unless it's to spend time with my mother because, honestly, my friends that I trust are on here. I learned the hard way what my issues could do to others, so I don't have any close friends around me in "real life", as people like to say.
My insecurities have crippled me, yet I know how to act "normal". I can keep up small talk, I can force a realistic smile instead of jerking away from someone, or I look down at the ground. I've managed to force a decent level to my voice, so I'm not "too quiet" for others, I keep my fears close and I apologize constantly when I feel as though I've let them out too often.
My image has never really bothered me. I hide myself often enough that I've developed a side that says "wear what makes you comfortable" which, in my case, happens to be a large hoodie, blue jeans, and a hat of some sort. My glasses, by far, are my favorite. I can take them off and the world blurs and it's like I'm alone and free to breathe. But I've been told, constantly, that I should wear more colorful clothes. That I should wear contacts, that my hats just cover my hair and that I should start showing more of myself. But I've been taught through my developing insecurities and the weird looks I get, the condescending "What did I do to you?" when I flinch or back away from someone, that no matter what I will always need to change something.
I'm afraid to bring up problems, and the only time I actually manage to stand up for myself is when I reach a breaking point of tears. I hate it. I hate that I have to lie to myself, that I smile and tell myself "You're okay, there's always worse you could be dealing with." I hate that I'm so afraid of everything around me, and more judgement, that I've trained myself to accept things and allow it to pile on until I can't take it anymore. But I rarely think of anything else to do when it reaches that point, and I haven't found a way that is considered acceptable to others around me, to deal with my problems. So I write. So far, that's been my only real freedom from dealing with the insecurities and problems from the world around me. It's not much, and it doesn't help when I pull away from someone or become increasingly uncomfortable in certain situations, but it helps.