I hate myself.
I'm plain. I'm boring. I don't have any sexual appealing qualities.
Heck, I'm a C cup for goodness sakes.
I never went outside during the entirety of my middle school life. The only time I stepped outside was when I went to take my precious dog to go do his business and to go to school. If I went to the mall, it was rare. I had a tendency to lock myself in my room the minute I got home to read a book or to do homework. I sometimes studied when I had a test the next day and I barely ate because I never did anything to have my stomach weep for hunger.
I was lonely. I was depressed. I rarely ever smiled.
Geez, I was like a scary frowning clown.
The moment I entered mid-high, I only had a few friends. Those friends were entirely online.
Yes, I had a boyfriend. He was my childhood friend. He doesn't count, he's a boyfriend, and he's not someone I can go complain to about my girlish problems and fangirl about my many fandoms with.
I started writing. Just, typing words in Microsoft Office. Just a couple sentences about a small idea of romance I wanted in my life. It was based around Pokemon, of course, since it was the only fandom I had my heart set on at the time. People commented with such enthusiasm and excitement, it made me feel pleasure for once in my life.
I decided to continue writing for this purpose. To interact. Though, when I continued to actually write, I began to love it. I could play out the many scenes I wanted to happen in my own life and force them onto characters that had no limitations.
For the first time in my life, I felt happy, content, and no sadness lingered, for I had found my real source of happiness. My own hobby and people who adored the same fandoms I did.
I am acknowledged. I am happy. I can't stop smiling.
Geez, I am like my baby cousin who can't seem to wipe that cutesy little grin off her face.
As I began to open up online through people who I have never met, I had begun to know them and love them. I began to have idols. I began to actually have conversation with a human being through the sole text of the words I wrote.
There were certain people that encouraged me to try harder, to reach my goals in life. No, no, not my writing. They wanted me to reach for a bigger picture.
I began to talk to people in school, and befriend them as well. All because of these several people telling me "You can do it!"
I'm colorful. I'm hyperactive. I couldn't be any more beautiful on the inside than I am on the outside.
Heck, who cares what anyone says?
I love myself.