Life of a Teenage Girl

I just feel so ugly. I’ll never be perfect. My chin is too long my nose is big my cheekbones are too small. I need makeup but I can never get it to stay on the whole day. Every time I like a guy I start thinking I have to be perfect for him so I brush my hair a lot like every 30 minutes and I reapply lip gloss a lot and I do everything I can. And people tell me I’m not fat but I totally am. I have so much more to say. You know sometimes I feel like I could write a really good book. I love to write. Or maybe I could make a movie with Sofia Coppola. That’s my dream. I moved schools and I’m quiet and shy here. I have no friends. At my old school I was friends with like everyone. Every time I try to talk or say something here people ignore me or just look at me. Sometimes people will reply without me having to repeat myself. But usually they just look at me. Sometimes I feel like I am a million different people at once. I can be really happy and then randomly get sad and not even know why. I overthink literally everything. What people think of me. What I look like. What I said earlier. If someone actually likes me or if I am just imagining it. Sometimes I feel so alone even when I am surrounded by people. But then there are little moments where I forget about all of that. When someone makes me laugh so hard I can’t stop smiling. When I’m with someone who makes me feel like I can actually be myself. Those moments make everything feel okay for a little while. I think I have always wanted my life to feel like something out of a book. Not perfect because I know real life is not perfect. I just want it to mean something. I want to have people I love. I want to make memories that I will still think about years from now. I want to fall in love and have friendships that actually last. I want to look back one day and know that I really lived instead of spending my whole life worrying about what everyone else thought of me. I am still figuring everything out. I do not know who I am going to become or where my life is going to take me. Sometimes that scares me. But maybe I do not have to know yet. Maybe I am allowed to just be me and confused and happy and sad and excited and scared all at the same time. Maybe growing up is not about becoming a completely different person. Maybe it is about finally becoming comfortable being yourself.