What I Thought: Considering It

Around my teen years, like 15 to 16, I always thought people would be better off without me. I wouldn’t be a burden on my parents because of all the spending they do on me. I wouldn’t make my boyfriend at the time so mad, if I wasn’t there to be mad at. I would be just one less person to worry about if I disappeared. Nothing in the world exactly drove me to think this. I was happy, at least in some sort of way. I had a boyfriend, friends, a family, my grades were good and yet, I felt like I should just disappear.

They say that suicide affects 6 people the heaviest in your life. And I counted who that would be. My mom, my dad, my sister, my boyfriend and my best friend. I couldn’t even come up with 6 names and that made me upset because that’s how many people are in my life.

I had no real reason to contemplate or even consider suicide. I was very sad and just not there. I felt inadequate to be my boyfriend’s girlfriend. I felt like I was constantly letting my parents down and sometimes, I feel excluded from my friends especially when they made plans and didn’t mention it to me or worse, when they would make plans in front of me and not invite me.

These were little things but these things could snowball.

On top of all that, I had body issues. I didn’t like my body. I felt fat and my stretch marks didn’t help. I also had a skin condition that’s on my arms and on my thighs, which I would hide in jeans or long sleeves or jackets, even if it was 101 degrees outside.

My boyfriend would see these things on my body, he would say that I looked beautiful, but what else is he supposed to say? Was he going to say that its ugly and that he wishes them gone? No. But that’s what I thought to myself.

It wasn’t until I lost 50 pounds in a month in end of my junior year. The doctors did all kinds of tests on me and to this day, they still have no clue why I lost that weight so fast. I went from a size 9 to a size 0. And at that time, I thought I looked gorgeous. I wore this blue dress to homecoming and it looked pretty. I didn’t starve myself or binge or anything. I just lost it. I kept eating my cheeseburgers and fries and pizza. It was like I was in heaven.

I later gained the weight as soon as I graduated high school. And I gained a lot. I went up a lot of sizes. At that point I was a size 12 now. Which explains how my stretch marks doubled and got worse.

To this day, I cringe looking at the pictures of those years because I looked malnourished or like I needed to back off the pizza.

And because of all this, I still can’t wear a bikini with all these body issues that just don’t help my self esteem. Now its not that low but its lower than others might think. I don’t think I’m pretty or cute or sexy and I have been called this by guys that I like but I don’t believe them when they say it. Its not like someone has ever called me ugly and it just stuck in my head forever. I was the only one who thinks this disregarding what others say. Yes I think I dress nice and everything but I don’t think me or my body are pretty or nice to look at. And that leads me to the next topic.

Sex.

Around the same age of 15-16, I thought I would be a virgin forever. That why would a guy ever want to have sex with me when I’m not even that pretty with clothes on, I’ll look horrendous without them on. This mentality was so bad that I thought the worst thing ever. I thought that the only way I was going to lose my virginity was if a guy raped me. That’s awful to think. But I did think that for a long time. Thankfully, that wasn’t the case. I lost my virginity at the age of 18 to my boyfriend at the time. No one knows that I thought such a thing. Can you believe feeling that unwanted that someone came to that conclusion?

I’m glad that for at least that, I was wrong. But sex has always hung a very ugly head over me. Its been something that I hold so high that I’ve only slept with 2 people in my whole life.

The world is odd. It shames people for having too much sex and for people who don’t have a lot of sex. I’ve had guys drop me because I refuse to have sex with them. And it feels like in the words of my friend, “what did he want a slut?” Or for the lack of a better word, someone who is a pro at sex. Or isn’t a freaking puzzle to figure out to have sex with.  Or I guess some guys want a girl who doesn’t yell “ow” every time there is an attempt at sex. I’m that pathetic that it still hurts to have sex. And told this to the second guy that I had sex with. And he said that I shouldn’t feel that way and I even apologized over the fact that he wasted a condom on me. But he said there was no need to apologize and that it wasn’t a waste. But I could tell he wouldn’t want to put up with me and my newness to sex.

And all this still makes me think who would give a fuck about me if I disappeared. I even disappointed my parents by not graduating this year when I was supposed to. But I don’t think I’m suicidal or that I want to kill myself. Maybe run away and leave my life and start over new. But I think I’ll always carry these things with me. I know I’m not going to kill myself or anything. But I do wonder what would happen if I did. Would anyone care? Would the guy that I had sex with last week even notice or care? Would my high school classmates say things about me? The world would keep going on without me. I’m not important enough for the world to stop and think about me. No one’s world would stop if I left the earth.

Don’t worry, readers. I’m not going to do anything to harm myself. 

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