I stared at the ceiling, crying. 

I gripped tighter onto my blanket.

This same night recurs like a bad dream

Echoing in my mind, "This is all there is."

 

No one ever wanted to play with me at school.

My parents were screaming at eachother every night,

But I wasn't allowed to go to parties or sleepovers.

Not that anyone invited me in the first place.

 

My own teacher told me I was stupid.

"A pain in my ass," she said.

That hurt my seven-year-old heart.

I thought adults were supposed to care about me.

 

My parents didn't have time to ask how I was doing,

But they did have enough time to slap me for acting out.

I was the butt of jokes for my teachers and peers.

Before ten years old, I knew I wasn't wanted.

 

Girls would grab my breasts in the locker room.

"You can grow acne but not tits?" 

Apparently my face and butt were just too fat.

I learned a lot about my body in middle school.

 

Girls kept making jokes about my appearance.

"C'mon, it's a joke, we didn't mean anything by it."

And maybe they didn't.

So I took it, like a good freshman.

 

"You're the pretty one in this relationship," my boyfriend joked.

I spent all night thinking about that.

For sixteen years I'd heard differently.

I fell in love with him, even though I thought he was lying.

 

Nothing lasts forever, good or bad.

No one was making fun of my appearance anymore.

I was "thick" with two "c"'s now. 

But I was alone and out of love again.

 

I'm too clingy, I suppose.

My new boyfriend told me that after ignoring me for a week. 

I was eighteen and old enough to see the abuse. 

But I thought maybe he'd stop if I was a better girlfriend.

 

I moved on and took a few good pictures.

My phone was blowing up with people asking for dates. 

Being lusted after wasn't the same as being loved.

Supposed beauty didn't stop me from crying myself to sleep.

 

"You're the sweetest girl I've ever met,"

Said R, Said E, Said J, Said H. 

After I'd lit myself on fire to keep them warm.

But they never even tossed me a blanket.

 

And then I was alone again.

And I was cold.

And I was made of ash.

And I couldn't burn any more. 

 

I stared at the ceiling, crying.

I gripped tighter onto my stuffed animal. 

If I slept, there would surely be another nightmare.

Echoing in my mind, "This is all there is."

 

The only constant I had was my lonliness. 

I was just "too stubborn to deal with". 

I was the only person I had left. 

But why was I the only one who was wrong?

 

Maybe no one else enjoyed my company.

But I did.

Maybe I shouldn't have lived through all the abuses of trust.

But I did.

 

I'm sitting by myself in a restaurant. 

But I'm not alone.

The only person who was there for me, ugly or pretty, was me.

And I am in love with her.

 

She is intelligent, and kind, and funny.

Her heart is always open for others,

I love it when she gets lost in her own imagination.

And you know what? She does have a pretty nice butt.

 

Someday someone else will see that too. 

And I will be there that whole time.

It took too many years to realize, 

But I don't need a replacement for the affection I never received.

 

I have my whole life ahead of me,

And my whole past behind me.

I sometimes say that I just want to be loved.

But I already am.