Content warning for violence and harsh language
It sucks having to look at yourself in the mirror every day, wondering what about you is wrong. You move forward, you have a roof over your head, you have a social life and some hopes you want to make real. But right now, you have to wash your face, get the gunk from your eyes, and face the fact that you are ugly. Now, there are different kinds of ugliness. There’s the ugliness that gets you mocked at the playground. There’s the ugliness that makes animals scurry from you or hiss at you. There are moments where you are so unsightly your parents beat you until you get the wherewithal to get back into your room and fix yourself to their liking. Or you get a moment of clarity that gets you to say to yourself, “I am a fuck up.”
Well, time to feel it. Feel it, because you need to be wounded. After all, you don’t want to be like those spoiled kids who do whatever they want and get whatever they want and thus may grow up to be entitled slobs who only get away with stuff because of money. But you have to work to be like them, earn your disgusting room, your belches, your lazy habits. Work so that you can actually relax. And you are not at that point now. Shame on you. Don’t look away from me, you little fuck. Look me in the eyes and know that you are ugly. Know this feeling so that you never get to this space again.
Fix yourself. Fix your hair, face, speech, clothes, room. Be more mindful around them. Be less upfront. Seen, not heard. But don’t forget that moment of shame. Don’t forget the threats and the consequences. Burned nipple from a cigarette butt, a headache from a punch or slam on the floor. Time by the corner, or a humiliating put-down by a teacher implying that you are deficient in front of dozens. A person you’re intimate with giving you the verbal equivalent of an owner snapping their dog on the nose, saying, “No! Bad!” Don’t forget.
And you try not to, while at the same time trying to function as their focus at that moment. Their offspring, their sibling, friend, pupil, employee…
Back again. New fuck up this time. And you were so sure that you were mindful. You even have confirmation that you were mindful this time. You think. You explain. Bullshit. You’re full of shit. How many fucking times do you have to be told not to fucking do this, you piece of shit. How fucking dare you? I swear to fucking god I will rip your fucking eyes out you little shit. I will toss you out into the goddamn cold. I will expose everything about you to your shitty, fair-weathered friends. I will stomp you until your skull erupts that malfunctioning goo you call your brain onto the fucking ground.
I need you ready tomorrow morning.
It sucks being back here again. Looking at yourself. No matter how good you look, you can’t shake all of that. But you have to. After all, it keeps you working. Keeps you family. Gets you (or them) wet. Just gotta keep at it. Just gotta be less ugly until next time. Don’t slip up. But until next time, you’re ugly. You gotta do something about that.
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