The Afterthought

Here I am. Years later.

I’m trying. I’m awake. I’m fighting. I’m alive.

Doing everything I can to feel my life is worth it. Even if it won’t matter anyway, because I won’t have those I love most next to me, and that’ll make me feel like shit.

It’s like going from a sinking ship to another, and I don’t know how to swim.

But the reality of the situation is I don’t feel like I’m good enough. I never have. Maybe it’s because there have been so many words stuck in my head, for years now. Words that describe how I’m inferior, incapable, socially awkward. Words that make me insecure, and make it harder for me to show my colors. I’ve been afraid. And that makes it harder to… live.

And like many people with social anxiety know, trying to hide or avoid these situations will only reinforce people who say those words, and will worsen the problem.

But I’ve battled this fearlessly and recently I realized… I’m an afterthought, they will be thinking about something else minutes from now. And I know it has more to do with them and their own insecurities than with me.

But what happens when the people I love the most are the ones doubting me? I’m currently upset because people keep implying I’m a “pendejo” and thus I can’t move out. That’s almost like, my kryptonite, coming from them. You can’t really know me, know I’ve been struggling my whole life, and then when I’m finally trying to get out of my shell and fight for myself, say those fucking words. You can’t… if you care, you just can’t.

But I’m done with this shit. I don’t care if I look sleepy, I don’t care if I’m fat, I don’t care if I’m a little hunchbacked, I don’t care if I need to fix my teeth, I don’t care if my voice weirds you out, I don’t care if my hair is curly and unruly, I don’t care about my oily skin and black spots, I don’t care about my stretch marks and my scars, I don’t care if I’m an introvert, I don’t care if I’m effeminate and gay, I don’t care if it’s hard for me to build a connection or maintain a conversation with you, I don’t care if I look older. I don’t care. I just don’t. My value is the same as yours for the simple fact that we’re both alive. That’s all we have. We’re equal. You can tell your ego to go fuck itself. I’m capable and beautiful and I’m going to do me and make a difference out there because I’ve been hiding for too long, and I have a lot to give, and I’m going out there with all my imperfections and I’m going to own it, and I won’t think about you and your words anymore.

I’m doing this for me. It’s your turn to be an afterthought.