You’d think by this point in my life I’d have it figured out.
Nope. I’m poor. I’m ugly. I’m fat.
But the worst part is my hands. They’re huge. They look like a man’s. Not a small man, a large, burly, hard working, man.
There is nothing wrong with man hands. I like them.
Unfortunately I married young and for all the wrong reasons. And as much as I’ve willed it I cannot go to my youthful self and explain all the pain that I will go through. I cannot go back and tell myself that there is no joy. That I will never, ever be invited out. That I am never on any guest list except the obligatory “please, come to this thing and bring me shit” list. No one wants me.
I can never forget this because it is everywhere.
Anyone who does want me only wants me for my incredible listening power. No one really cares what I think or who I am. I pine after attention like a small child. Everyone sees this childish nature. No one really cares. They think I’m just needy. They think something. I think if I did things differently I would have what I want, but try as I might I can’t seem to transform. I can’t seem to become another person. I’d rather be anyone else. Everyone else seems so worthy of their spouse’s love. It doesn’t matter what I do though, my spouse will never take care of me. I’m not worthy. I am nothing.
I got up this morning. I was fuckable when I was needed this morning. To release stress or pressure or whatever. But then tonight I must have been to forward. Not demure enough? I don’t really know. But this morning wasn’t about me. Most of the time it isn’t about me. It’s never about me. I try to be better. I try to be less needy. I try to make sure that I can have my needs met in the short five minute burst. I’m too needy.
I got up today and went to work. I wore make up. I tried really hard to not look bad.
Tonight when I looked in the mirror, to figure out what made me so damned unfuckable, I saw it. The boobs that resemble a 40 year old man. The bib apron stomach. The fat thighs that press together with no space. I saw my long, sad, fat face. But the worst part is my hands. Why would anyone want to please my ugly man hands?
So then I wondered, again, why am I even here? To be born? To be abused? To be ugly as fuck? When is it my turn to have some good?
Because I am unfuckable. I really just wish I were dead though. It sucks here.
It hurts so incredibly bad.
And tomorrow, I will wake up. I will fake a smile. I will pretend that I am ok. I will pretend that my needs are met and I am just being dramatic anytime I am upset. I never do have a valid reason…. That’s what they tell me every time. What? You fell far below what you said and barely even made an effort? Yes, I see your effort. Thank you so much for sticking me with every bill and then having the nerve to ask me for money from my paycheck. Thank you so much for having a great social life and sticking me with every ounce of work. Yes, I’d love to go out at the precise time you have planned for me and do the things you give me permission to do. No, I don’t have a mind of my own. Thank you so much for making sure that you’ve budgeted for me and given me exactly enough money to buy toilet paper, a God Damed broom, and get gas in my car. It was plenty, and I am so grateful for your generous contribution as you go spend the exact amount to go play for the day.
I’m sorry for being unfuckable. Can’t you just love me?
Nah. I wouldn’t either. I’m a pathetic excuse for a human.
I am the definition of unfuckable.
I never was worth a thing.
So why can’t I die? Why the fuck am I stuck in a world where I am completely not worth even being listened to? Where people interrupt my every word, no matter how fast I try to say them? I am worthless right?
God I must be awful.
Speaking of God… Why the fuck am I here????