I'll be undressing you with every word....

I wrote All Time Low a letter today. It was for my own self, since I'm sure I'll never have the courage to give it to them. It revealed things a little to personal, so I wouldn't want to leave that as my lasting impression on one of my favorite bands. I'd give a letter like that to Green Day, because they have had such a profound affect on my life, plus I've been a fan for a while and my fandom is tried & true.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not doubting my fandom for All Time Low, just saying that Green Day has always been there and always will be.

Pretty much, in the writing of the letter, I broke down. I'm a wreck, but I pick up the pieces every day and fix myself. I hate hate hate myself. This isn't a pity statement, because no one's reading this but me. I really do hate myself. I hate the way I look, and I hate the way I act. I hate the way I feel like I have to fight to keep a conversation alive, aside from a few people. I question myself all the time, and I feel like no matter what I do, I'll never fit in. I'm an outcast in my own mind, and if I can't even be the star of my own reality, who's reality can I star in?

I have a grand total of two friends. I know, popular girl. No guys fall at my feet; I'm ugly as hell and my personality matches, so I can see why. I really do hate myself. I feel bad, because I know that God created me and I should be happy with myself, but I'm not. You may not realize it if you're just talking to me, but I know it. I've lost the sparkle in my eyes. I used to la la love my eyes, but now I can barely look myself in the eyes. I disgust myself, can't see why I wouldn't disgust someone else.

I miss the old me, the one that didn't give a damn what other people thought...well, that still is me. I don't care what most other people say, but it does matter that I can't shove that voice to the back of my head, the one critiquing my every move - and that voice doesn't belong to anyone else.

It belongs to me.

And I need to stop that, but I don't know how. Someone save me? I can't rely on one comment from James Matthew Flyzik forever.

for now,
Megan.