I'm waiting for the day the parts of me that aren't all that pretty, are unveiled. The day that my mask falls off and every inch of my soul is laid bare, exposed, to you.
Only on this day will I know, if you are capable of loving me.
Because I have an addiction to madness, and I'm a friend of the sadness when it takes over.
My mind doesn't stop wondering off in the dead of night, and my dreams often turn into nightmares before the sun rise. Sometimes I feel every emotion all at once, and other times I feel as though I am entirely numb.
Numbed to the idea of pain, numbed to the thought of love.
I'm not always angry. I'm not always sad, nor am I always depressed. I don't always lose my patience in a brief moment and I don't always lash out on the ones that I love.
If anything, I hold it all inside for as long as I possibly can. I keep my thoughts and feelings to myself out of fear of hurting somebody else.
I don't want to bring other people down with me, especially you. But I'm afraid if I let my inner struggle and inner demons show, I might.
I don't want to reveal my hidden scars or my battle wounds from the years of weakness before.
You've seen parts of me that I only let certain people see. I'm so guarded I have a hard time even smiling at people as I walk by them on the street.
I keep my head down and my defense held high. I'm always prepared for a fight, but never for kindness from other people. I walk around with a strong, bold attitude but deep down inside have no self-confidence or esteem.
I know you see me smile, you hear me laugh, and we have fun on our crazy, little adventures.
But yet, there are still sides of me you don't know are there. And it’s exhausting to hide them from you anymore.
I need you to know every part of me. I need to see who I really am from every angle. There's places I've been and things I've done that I just want to show you, and tell you about. I want to show you the parts of me that aren't beautiful. The parts of me that I see as nothing but ugly.
I always wear sweaters, even in the middle of the summer because I have marks and scars I don't want anyone to see but me.
You won't catch me showing too much of my legs either because I have more dark secrets carved into my thigh. I have a tattoo that covers a place on my body that I once used as an attempt to take my own life.
But you wouldn't know it from the outside. I used to scream, punch holes in walls and spend days in a foggy haze because I relied on alcohol to fill my sorrows and give me a sense of relief from the madness of my home.
Now? Rejection is my greatest fear and emotion.
I hear it all around me, I even see it in the mirror. My reflection tells me that no one will ever love me.
That I am too used and broken already for anyone to want me. I hear my own thoughts roar with words of negativity and insecurity, as they play over and over again in my mind.
I tell myself to be strong, to put the past behind me and to move on. I tell myself to stop being afraid of what other people think of me. I try not to be the master of my own self-destruction, but I am.
I'm still learning how to be myself. Still learning to be strong. Brave even. Most days, I really don't know how to be.
I'll admit that I am up and down and everywhere in between. I'm in and out of my head sometimes. And I don't try to be, but I get so low I get trapped under a wave of cruel, crippling anxiety.
I just hope that when I do find the courage, there is nothing I confess that will make you love me less.