Malaise Dread | District Nine {WIP}

There are a lot of days that I feel worthless. It's most days that I feel that way, to be honest. Very few things seem to make me feel truly happy when I'm down on myself like that. My boyfriend is one of the few lights in my life nowadays. He and my family are some of the few people that I feel truly care about me anymore. Sure, I have friends, but I often feel like they don't quite understand me. There are some here and there that I can vent to, and they try to give me advice, and although I appreciate that, I sometimes feel like they can't give me the advice I need, no matter how hard they try and how much I know that they care.

Even if someone is going through struggles very similar to your own, it's hard to believe that anyone has exactly the same pains and troubles as you do. That's how I feel, anyway. Sure, people say 'I understand' and 'I know how you feel' or 'I went through the same thing', but the question I have is, how can someone completely know what's going on in your head when they're not there? People aren't psychic. They can't read your mind. They're not inside your head. It's physically impossible for them to be in the same exact situation as you are. Therefore, I don't see how they can entirely know how I feel.

Today was another one of those shitty days of mine, so I figured that I may as well use it as an example to show you what my life is like as of recently. It was enough hell for me to finish school in the first place. I felt like I went through every possible obstacle to be done with it, and it was a relief when it was finally over. Now, though, I'm expected to live like an adult, out on my own, and it terrifies me. Today, I got up in the morning, living by myself as I have been.

It wasn't a peaceful awakening, though. I'd barely slept at all, perhaps three or four hours at the most. Although, this was much more than I had been sleeping recently, so it was a bit of an accomplishment. The dreams I'd had, however, were far from sweet. They consisted of a variety of nightmares. Every time I awoke from a nightmare, I'd fall back to sleep only to be dragged into another terrible vision during my slumber.

When I finally decided that I was done suffering with my sleep, I got out of bed, got dressed, brushed out my long, brunette locks that were a tangled mess and glanced into the mirror, my blue eyes staring back at me. My eyes are one of the few features I've ever actually liked about my physical appearance. I mean, sure, my nose could be considered to be cute, too, perhaps, but my skin looks far too pale to me. I feel like my mouth is a bit too small and my ears a tad too large, protruding from my head a little too much.

My boyfriend tells me that I'm beautiful, and I feel like he's the only person that I ever really believe when I'm told that, because he's always entirely honest with me. We promised each other that we'd never lie to one another, no matter what. When it comes to other people, like my parents, telling me that, I feel like they're just saying it to make me feel better. I've never been someone who's confident in their appearance. Then again, I'm not a very confident person in general.

I suppose the things I hate the most about my appearance are my stretch marks and my scars. Some of my scars are from injuries that the outside world has decided to make me endure, whereas others are self-inflicted. Luckily, I'm doing a bit better, and haven't harmed myself intentionally in quite a while now. I feel that that is definitely a step in the right direction. I want to straighten out my mental health, but it's proven to be quite difficult, especially when my worst days can get me to the point of wanting to just end it all.

I need to start looking at the more positive things about myself, too, though. I'd mentioned that I like my eyes and their pretty blue color, but I suppose I also like how smooth my skin is most of the time, despite the occasional acne that surfaces on it. I keep my nails neat and clean, which is a satisfying thing for me to be able to do. I also love how soft my hair is. It's odd to me, saying that I love something about myself, but I suppose that the softness of my hair is something that I could say that I love. It's good to love things about yourself, but I suppose I just have a hard time doing that.