Contentment. Sometimes it’s like a bathtub full of water without bubbles or a sweet scented bath foam. You sit in the water and say ‘I am happy I have a bath tub full of water’ and yet you know you are not satisfied.

Contentment. I live, breath and walk and I eat and sleep under a roof. I write and read on a Mac Book. I work and study, I gain knowledge and make money and yet… contentment feels like it’s a fish in the river and my fishing tackle is heavy. I know a fish is attached but when I pull it out of the river there is nothing at the end of the wire.

Contentment. It’s easy to paste a beautiful smile, plaster my face with foundation to hide my stress acne and put on a glaring lipstick but it’s hard to plaster the brick walls cracking and tumbling down inside me. It’s like I should be happy my heart is beating even when I can feel there is a large brick stuck on it.

Contentment. It’s invisible. No body sees it because we are meant to feel it and let our faces shine the diamonds of contentment and yet I feel invisible. I feel alone in a house full of people. My silence is louder than my voice in a lecture full of people. My big body shrinks in a room full of beautiful bodies. I become so small And I feel invisible.

Contentment. Having a laugh with people while asking google why no one likes you. Looking at men and women and trying to understand why you? If only they could read your mind perhaps they could be attracted to you.

Contentment. Paranoia that maybe a complete stranger can see you. Sitting in a train and feel like a passenger came and sat on top of you. No one sees you. No one wants you. Your mother is okay with you being alone and your friend is okay because she has someone to tell her that she is beautiful while I have to look at myself at a mirror and completely lie to myself.

Contentment. Every morning I have to convince myself someone would look at me and like what he sees and by evening I look at me and recoil. “Who in the right mind would like this?”

Contentment. It’s jealousy that your friend is actually in love and no one loves you. Contentment. It’s that you have everything you want and yet no one is there to tell you you are worth loving. Contentment. It’s sitting in a train opposite snogging lovers and hold onto dear life before you crumple into a pile of a mess.

Contentment. It’s going to the club and come out sober and ever sadder after 15 shots of Vodka because six of your skinny best friends were asked out tonight and no one even bothered with you because you are a duff. A Designated Ugly Fat Friend.

I should be content. I should feel beautiful. I should feel visible. I shouldn’t be getting so paranoid.


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