People Pleasing Perpetual Liar Poem by Emily Barnes

I hate myself.

I hate my laugh.

I hate my body.

I hate how i look.

I hate that i put myself into precarious situations to make my friends laugh and i don't think I'll ever truely fit in with them.

I hate that i don't know if im inlove with him or jealous that he's such a pivotal part of his group.

I hate that im so sensitive.

I hate that i don't think I'll ever be liked for me.

I hate that i settle for talking romantically with people who don't care about the word no because they're the only type of people who seem to really like me.

I hate that i hide behind fake confidence and that i think im only really happy with a substance in my blood or a blade in my hand.

Im scared of growing up but also too scared to make myself never grow up.

So i settle as i always seem to do.

I settle for the intricate lines that litter my thighs and plague my brain with the worries of someone namely my mother seeing them.

I hate that i don't truely hate my sister i envy her.

Im jealous of her flat stomach.

Im jealous of her boyfriend.

Im jealous of the popularity she had in her time at school.

Im jealous that the boys in my year group like her more than me even though theyve only seen her pictures.

Im jealous that shes a adult with a real career whos self sufficient.

I hate that shes double my age and im double her weight.

I hate that boys talk about how fast i could gain muscle if i went to the gym because i wouldn't have to bulk first.

I hate that my well meaning friends only ever compliment my hair and face because the rest of my body is so grotesque that its physically unable to be complimented.

I hate that i push people away.

I hate that i can't read people and i hate that i started writing this because im spiralling about a message that said ‘yeah alright' because i don't understand what you mean by that can we meet early or not because my mums got cancer and i can't tell you that because your dad just got a operation to get rid of his own cancer and i don't want to upset you or steal your comfort and theyve caught hers pretty quickly and i don't know the details of his and i want you to like me.

I want you to like me.

My personality.

I want someone to find something about me interesting.

Something i haven't falsely created for you to like me.

Not the reference im copying from our conversations months ago.

Not the show i started talking about and watching because you mentioned liking it.

I don't want to trauma bond.

I want to bond.

I want you to like me enough to not need another person around to water me down.

I want you to want me.

I hate how selfish that is.

I hate how selfish i am.

I hate that im breaking out.

I hate that i pick my scabs until they make purple raised scars or white divots in my arms like im fine with how it looks.

Im not.

I hate it.

I hate me.

And i hate that i'll never admit that out loud.

I hate the girls at my school.

I hate their soft hair and kind eyes. I hate their tight knit groups.

I don't really hate it though.

I crave it.

I crave gossip and girl talk and if i could do it all again i would've been friends with them from the start and eaten their dressing-less salads and shared their hatred for carbs and hidden myself deep down but i know that would've killed me anyway.

Quicker than im slowly killing my ambition.

I used to be something great.

I used to be innocent.

But now im just a fat liar.

A fat bullshitter who lies to everyone around her including herself.

I hate myself.