Thoughts of an insecure human.

It all started when I was 14 “yes, I’m a late bloomer” pimples started showing. I also remember having to wear glasses at that age .... as nerdy as it sounds, I wasn’t nerdy at all... I mean, I got good grades and stuff, but I wasn’t a “nerd,” just a decent student trying to make her parents proud. I never cared about my looks, nonetheless about my face , I thought it was okay not to look pretty. Pretty; a word that I never tell myself now. Starting to care about myself was when everyone around me started calling me out for how I look and how I dress, “you know, you could use some makeup,” “you need to visit a doctor,“ “I know a good foundation,” blah blah blah. At first, I did not care, but when I first met him, I started feeling insecure. He was my first “official crush” ( and FYI im not the type that would fall for anyone that easily, it actually took me time to realize that I do.) Well, I was insecure before that but, about other things that we can discuss later. He was a handsome guy, full of joy and hope.... or so I thought. I started putting effort in how I looked when we got to meet, I was never satisfied, though. He was nice, and although we had so much in common, I lacked his confidence; I seem to be the opposite and i sadly was. Still, we never talked about our love lives but my stupid anxiety always sneaks in claiming that he hates me and finds me ugly. Ugly.... wow, it’s a word of million meanings. Such a powerful word, always in my thoughts, “you are ugly.” I tried finishing this, I swear I think it needs another 17 years of learning and finding my true self to be able to continue... and as much as I hate cliffhangers, ironically, to be continued.