I am uglier than you imagine.

I am waiting for you to run. Isn’t that enough? I am waiting for you to leave in a panicked retreat.

Help! Help!
The girl is getting real.

I am uglier than you imagine, and I must trust you enough to say this. Trust you enough to let you hurt me because I know I am this way. I am not some Victoria’s Secret dream of a perfect woman. I am wrong and I hurt. I stuffed my bra when I was twelve.

I am ugly in ways you don’t know.

I have zits. Under all this makeup I am a raging factory of acne-spreading war-heads and big disgusting blotches, and they’re red and orange and green! Hell, goddammitall, sometimes they’re green. GREEN!. Soon you are going to see it, when I take off my make-up to sleep. If we ever sleep together. Soon this oily, zitty complete disaster of a complexion is going to be right in your perfect-skin goddam face, and then you’re going to have to see it. There aren’t any easy ways out then.

I am trying to give you one now.


I am waiting for you to leave.

I binge. I binge in terrible ways. I diet and I dream and I can’t stop thinking about food all the time that I’m dieting and I get an ounce of depression from some completely unrelated kind of source and I binge. I don’t purge.

Who’s ever going to love me when I’m huge? When I’m huge and fat and you can see the ugly on the skin instead of having to look down into my heart.

I am ugly and I never ever purge, so I’m not losing this weight any time soon. After I have kids I’m not even going to fit through the door.

I get scared. I don’t always know what to do. I’m scared of people. When I’m out of my element I curl up into a ball of silence and you’re going to have to stand next to me when I’m shaking. I’m petty. I make all the mistakes girls make and I will hold you responsible for terrible things you never do and that I never tell you about because I can’t stand to try to impose on your life but I can’t stand to live this way.

I miss you when you’re gone sometimes. I miss you, and I watch TV. I watch lots and lots of TV. It placates my soul and makes me stop trying to realize that maybe it’s still unhappy.

I am ugly in ways you don’t know. And you’re getting close to finding them all out. You’re getting close now, but you’re not there yet, and if you thought this was disgusting just wait.

I am ugly in ways you could never, ever imagine.

I am waiting for you to leave. That’s why my eyes are closed.

I am hoping! I am hoping I am hoping still, like a little girl.

I am waiting for you to say you knew all of this already, and you love me anyway.

I am waiting for you to run.

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