A letter from July 10th, 2020

Dear FutureMe, I’m at the point where I finally love my body but I hate my face. I was doing so well. I LOVED everything about myself for awhile. But here I am writing to myself again. I’ve lost weight because I sleep so late that by the time I wake up it’s almost supper time. I’ve never really eaten breakfast, and now it’s rare that I eat anything before seven. I keep telling myself it’s not intentional. My sleep schedule is just horrible and I don’t need that much food since I just lay in bed all day with this whole quarantine thing. Somethings, though, I can’t help but wonder if subconsciously I am forcing myself to skip lunch. To only eat once a day with maybe a small snack or two once three, four, or five a.m. hits. Anyways... the point is I’m finally loving my body even though I’m not sure it’s changed all that much. Which is good I guess... But I hate my face. What sucks is you can’t workout or “salad away” your face. You’re stuck with it. I hate my side profile. I hate my back profile. From the front I’m not so bad... but only from far away. I’m tired of this endless cycle of “Dang I look good! I’m beautiful!” to, “I hate myself. I’m never going to find someone to love and hold me because I’m so bad looking.” I have one selfie on my phone that I have taken. Remember? I wrote about how beautiful I felt after taking it? I had put on some mascara and a tiny bit of eyeshadow with the red lip gloss? Yeah. I want that feeling back. It’s probably only been about a month since I took that photo and felt that way! What the heck is wrong with me? I look at that picture now and think about deleting it because I actually don’t look that great as I though I guess. I’m 16 and pathetic. I don’t know how to use makeup (and I don’t really want to learn to be honest) and everyday I wear long t-shirts and the same pair of jeans over and over again. I guess I’m lucky because I do have the one pair of black Vans that I really love but still. There’s a reason I’ve never had a boyfriend. There’s a reason no ones ever asked me out. There’s a reason people don’t bat an eyelash when they see you. There’s a reason for everything. But seriously... what is wrong with me? Maybe I’ve never actually loved myself. Maybe my mind tricks me into thinking I do because it hurts so bad to hate your reflection. To hate your own body and face. I hope when you’re reading this these issues of mine have gone away, but I highly doubt it. I hope you’ve found some guy who genuinely believes you’re beautiful. Who genuinely loves you. But I highly doubt it. If all else fails at least my personality is decent. (At least that’s what I think). So maybe you’ll have found someone who looks past your looks. But I highly doubt it... I hate the way my nose sticks out when I turn to the side. I hate how I literally have no jawline on the sides of my face. I hate the combinations of my round face and high cheek bones. I hate the dark circles under my eyes that I’ve had since I was little. I hate how my chin is small, but sticks out like a witch when I turn to the side. I hate how flat my hair looks sometimes, making me look dirty and greasy. I hate how my arms, legs, hands, and fingers, are super skinny, but how my hips and stomach are more on the squishy side. I hate how my hips are wider than the rest of my body. I hate my extreme muffin tops and hip dips. I hate my hooded eyes, but at least the color is nice I guess. I hate the big freckles that are on various places on my body. I hate the fat on my back. I hate my chubby cheeks. I hate how my nose and cheeks are oily, but my forehead is dry as the desert. I hate the way my thighs expand when I sit or lay down. I hate my posture. I hate the way my neck rests on my body. I even hate the shape of my belly button. I hate how sensitive I am when someone barley changed the tone of their voice. I hate how introverted I am. I hate how I love being alone all the time. I hate how I act like I have problems. I hate how I think I’m playing victim. I hate not knowing how I’ll feel about myself when I wake up the next afternoon. I hate how easily I feel embarrassed about everything. I hate how I can’t do anything athletic without throwing up. I hate how red my cheeks get from just a minute in the sun. I hate how I overthink a lot of things. I hate how I want this list to get bigger and bigger right now. I hate not knowing how to comfort people when they are crying. I hate not knowing the right words to say when people come to rant to me. I hate not knowing for sure what I want to do with my life. I hate thinking I’m going to be alone forever. I hate intentionally ignoring certain people’s texts because I don’t want to talk to them. I hate questioning if God is real and the Bible. I hate being scared I’m going to Hell for that. I hate how cold my toes get at night. I hate how I always want to cry and pretend I have problems. I hate wondering if I need therapy when I don’t. I hate how I still enjoy silly apps like Episode and WattPad. I hate how I believe I can have what those stories tell about. I hate that I rant to my future self through this website. I hate how I’ve sent all these rants to the same random day like 5 years in the future. I hate believing in silly things like soulmates and twin flames. I hate how I watch those pick a card videos at 6a.m. when I feel lonely. I hate being scared and over analyzing every comment I want to post on someone’s video or post. I hate how I’m not more outgoing. I hate how I’m the “quiet kid”. I hate when people ask each other why I never talk only to be answered with “she’s just shy”. I hate people thinking being shy and introverted is the thing. I hate when people act like they’re better than me, even though they are. I hate how every time my sensitive self get upset my eyes get a red rib around them. I hate how I’m always second chair in band. I hate how ungrateful and entitled that sounded. I hate forcing myself to only drink water when sometimes I just really want a soda. I hate how I get so rude and ungrateful sometimes when my parents tell me we’re not picking food up from somewhere. I hate how I refuse to play Barbies and roblox sometimes with my little sister even though I know she just wants to spend time with me. I hate how I still enjoy spongebob (specifically the first three seasons). I hate that I just said that. I hate how I’m too young to learn about taxes and bills and stuff. I hate how I’m too old to have that happy simple nostalgic feeling everyday. I hate how I use my grades to make myself feel like I’m better than other people. I hate how I think about my grandparents (who are still alive) passing away. I hate how I think about the four pets we lost in a span of four years from old age starting when I was in maybe fourth grade. I hate how I act like I have problems even though that’s the most traumatic thing I’ve gone through. I hate how anytime someone talks about those pets I want to sob. I hate how I can’t handle when people talk to me online. I hate how I’m still scared of sleeping specially in my room without the tv on. I hate how I claim I like reading but how I never really sit down to read a book. I hate how I haven’t practiced my flute in over a month. I hate how long this paragraph is getting. I hate how I despise the thought of going back to school when everyone else missed it 3 weeks after quarantine started. I hate how if my family ever saw this paragraph it’d be the ***** of me. I hate how I act around other people. I hate how I want to cry more. (An hour or two later) I hate how mid-writing this paragraph my amazing sister came in and forced me to play roblox with her. I hate how she doesn’t know what I was writing before she came in. I hate how I feel about this paragraph now. I hate how I’m going to send it to myself anyways because I spent a long time writing it and cause I want my future self to be moved by it. I hate that I want my future self to cry reading this. I hate that I don’t know what is wrong with me sometimes. I hate that after taking a break and playing that game with my sister I think I was being stupid and this paragraph is me being over dramatic. I hate how my emotions work (facepalm*). I hate how many turns this paragraph took. I hate that it’s almost 6am but I’m not tired because of my messed up sleep schedule. I hate how I want to go back and read this long essay of a paragraph to edit it cause bad grammar and spelling drives me insane. I hate how I sound like an English teacher right now. I hate how at this point I’m just trying to drag this on cause weirdly I almost don’t want it to end. I hate how much I’m captivated by all the zodiac sign personality stuff even though it’s probably all a hoax. I hate how I’m about to end this letter with a really dramatic and sad line I wrote over an hour ago before starting this paragraph. I hate how indecisive I am. I hate how I’m invalidating my own feelings I was feeling an hour ago right now. I hate hating myself.