#tw self-esteem

This poem was written in May 2015 and published on Wattpad originally.

Edited: 3 July 2024 (spelling and grammar corrections)

Summary:        “I’m sorry,” Jisung kept whispering, “I’m sorry I wasn’t there to hold your hand, I’m sorry I couldn’t stop you getting eliminated.” Minho sobbed harder, clutching at Jisung’s shirt until his knuckles were white and he was afraid the fabric would rip in his hold.

            Jisung’s world seemed to stop, however, when Minho whispered, “I’m sorry I wasn’t good enough to debut with you.”

Warning: negative self-image

Genre: angst and fluff, Jisung/Minho of Stray Kids

Word Count: 634 words

So, yeah, I do love my body, because she can do so many things and she's so very capable.

...but when the clothes come off? She feels too off-colored. Kinda splotchy and veiny...rolls in weird places, dips in other weird places...lines that COULD be considered elegant if they put in just a little bit more effort...asymmetrical. Not thin, not thicc, or even really thick. Just kinda....here?

And I often find myself worrying...could someone who I find attractive, funny, lovely, gorgeous, interesting...also somehow find all this appealing as well? Even if they could look past the things I worry about in my personality, in my intellect, could they find my body appealing or interesting?

Ugh... this is probably something a lot of people struggle with, I understand...but man...I think I'm feeling lonely and kinda scared. I love love so very much...but I want it.

I hate that I feel like shit all the time. I hate that I have to hide it. I hate that I can tell that people I love are suffering the way I am and they won’t even accept sympathy, because they think THEY have to hide it. 

I hate that I can tell that my baby sister is low right now, and she won't do anything, and when I give any indication that I’m concerned or that I worry for her, she treats me like shit, which I, a person who already feels like shit, do not need.

I hate that my little brother was raised to believe that you have to be forthcoming with your anger, regardless of who it hurts, if you are to show any emotion whatsoever, because anger is the MANLY feeling, and other emotions, or methods of dealing with said emotions healthily, are weak.

five months and i’m not over him.

maybe that sounds ridiculous, maybe it’s “first love syndrome” or whatever bullshit they’re calling it now. but i think my reasons are legit.

imagine it. for the first time in your life, someone of the opposite sex that you like, that isn’t a douche, a creep or a troublemaker. actually takes an interest in you. we’re talking mutual interest. and he enjoys talking to you. he thinks you’re pretty, and interesting, and worth spending time on. and he’s not in reach in your head because your self-esteem is the worst. but somehow the stars align to bring you said person. the catch is that they’re 5000 miles away. of course it couldn’t be that easy. so you like this person and they like you and they’re far away but you give it a shot anyway, because what do you have to lose? best case, you see them in person someday, worst, the whole thing drops off early.

so you try. you try so hard. you like this person so much, maybe even love them, within the first two months, but you don’t want to say it because love is big. love is not to be fucked with.

but they say it first.

and your heart explodes because what you thought was you being crazy is… well, not. a person that you love really, truly loves you back. and you’re together, at least in spirit, which is all you have at the moment.

and then it gets hard. distance hurts both of you, strains the relationship. you learn the other isn’t perfect, but you get over it quickly. perfect is boring anyway. you’re going strong. you talk things out when it gets tough, talk as much as possible. nothing else you CAN do.

then he gets frustrated. it isn’t enough, there’s too much distance, not enough contact, and he is upset. thinks about breaking it off. you get it, of course you get it. you’re frustrated too. but the thought of actually being able to be with them in body someday drives you forward. you’ve waited this long, right?

but it doesn’t matter. he’s given up, you can feel it. it takes months, but you can sense the decline at the very beginning. and then he snaps.

“i think i’m gonna do it this time. for real.” “do what?” “break up with you.”

and if you’re like me, you aren’t the begging type. you can’t force him. so you let him go. no fuss. tears behind the scenes. maybe you snapchat or tweet about it ambiguously.

and a week later, he wants you back. you tell him no, even though every part of you but your brain is screaming yes at the top of their lungs.

the brain knows, though, that if the conditions don’t change, the outcome won’t either.

so you “stay friends”. you were friends before either one of you had the courage to pull anything, but this isn’t the same. this isn’t anything.

five months. two conversations.

you know he’s around. his social media is still up, you see it sometimes. and you can’t help but push back tears every time you hear a love song. and your heart skips a beat when someone says his name, even if it wasn’t really HIS name. and you think about him all the time even now.

but you can’t talk to him. it hurts too much. and you can’t ask the questions you want answered the most.

do you regret it?

do you think about me as much as i think about you?

do you still love me?