Note: I was browsing through the drafts of my previous blog and I found something written a couple (or even more) years ago. It has been edited several times so I know it’s older. Probably didn’t publish it because the idea of putting up raw feelings up on the internet terrifies me.
But I think I’m ready now.
Besides, I really enjoyed reading it myself and would love for everyone else out there to have a look, too.
This is me, a normal highschool going kid whose face is literally over-flowing with acne. And I have no control over this jeopardised situation of my skin. All of you’ll who have a gala time staring at the pimples on my face while talking to me, let me tell you, I FIGURE IT OUT. Do you really think you can pretend to look me in the eyes while talking and instead take a nice look at the marks on my face? If you do, then you are stupid. Really stupid. And the only reason I don’t mention it, is because I prefer being discreet in order to save myself some embarassment.
It’s not genuine when you point out my pimples. Seriously. Stop doing it. You think you are making small talk? You are not. It’s not fun. Stop doing it. I am fully aware of the blemishes that inhabit my face like leeches, and the last thing I need is for someone to come and throw light on them when I am not in front of the mirror. Maybe you will forget it after mentioning it out loud, but you will leave me disturbed. Disturbed and questioning the Almighty about the distinct ways he creates homo sapiens and why did he choose only me to stand over the fine line of discrepancy.
I have days when I want to shut myself in my house and not step out because I feel pity. I feel funny and yes, hideous. Probably too much for my ego to admit, but I have days of such and it sucks. I’ll be honest, it sucks so hard you will never know.
But just like I crap daily, I have to deal with this daily too.
I am not frustrated. Do not get me wrong. I’m just tired. Tired of looking ugly at times. Tired of working hard to keep my self-esteem boosted, just so I don’t become one of those freaks who commence drowning in the pool of depression. It’s pathetic. And I do not want to reach that land.
I am so totally the opposite of photogenic. I don’t even snap pictures of myself anymore because I am just too afraid to see what is already there. It’s easier to walk on the street not remembering that you have a face people will look twice at, not because you have extrardinary features but because your extraordinary features are yet to want to seek fame.
I think it sucks to be the kid with the acne and it sucks even more to absorb the pity reeking out of everybody else.
In my head, I have an optimistic, utopian image of myself, 10 years from now looking much better. But that’s for my betterment currently, only. It’s that one string of hope I’m clinging to, which helps me face the people daily. People like you. Of course, considering the fact that you are not like me.
There are moments when I want to cry. Because, it IS possible to not reach rock-bottom if you don’t handle yourself well during teenage years, being the kid with acne. But I have nothing to do. No magic wand. No fairy. No face-masks that can help recover my partially chipped off dignity.
But seriously, it would be nice of you to cooperate.
The Kid with the Acne.