I remember when I was so full of life. I remember when I was beautiful, when women were attracted to me, when I had many friends, when I exercised, when I played in a band, when I knew who I was. Ever since joining the military my life has gone to shit. I have been in for almost two years now, and my skin issues have turned me into a creature of the shadows. And it is not so much as acne that bogs me down, it is something much worse. 

I have some sort of seborrheic dermatitis, or some condition that causes my face to flake up and fall apart. 

We have to shave every day, as it is a part of the overall professional look of the sailor and the uniform. But honestly, the shaving makes it so much worse. If I could not shave I wouldn't. I could get authorized to not have to shave by getting a no shave chit, but I am so embarrassed about this condition that the idea of talking about it with someone makes me cringe. The worst is when it gets really bad, and it does fluctuate, and people make comments about it. "Why are you flaking so badly" "Your skin looks really dry" "Dude, your skin looks so fucked up right now". The last comment was said to me about three weeks ago and I immediately bowed my head and quickly walked several meters away from the person, of which I proceeded to look at my phone and continue to smoke my cigarette. I wanted to shoot myself right then and there. 

And the pain, the pain is the worst part. If it didn't hurt so badly I could probably get through the day without thinking about it. But it usually always feels like a constant sunburn. I am always reminded about my condition through pain. Skin will build up and become discolored, and become a sort of dark paste I have to scrape or scrub off. And it is a constant cycle of healing and falling apart. Once every month I have a few days of which my skin looks really good, or passable, and I actually smile. I laugh. I go outside of my barracks and grab dinner with a few mates. Those few days remind me why I love life, why I enjoy living. But then my skin returns to shit and I am again turned into a reclusive hermit of which wastes my time off duty and off training indulging in every sort and bit of escapism I can possibly find. 

I never really played many video games before the navy. I had too much going on throughout the daily comings of life. I toured too often, I was in AP courses, I had dozens of friends I spent time with. Now I spend probably eight hours a day playing video games. I keep the lights dark so if people come in they cannot see my face clearly. I chainsmoke like a motherfucker, ten cigarettes a day, sometimes an entire pack. I used to be extremely fit, running a 5k or more everyday, with a strict dietary regiment and gym schedule. Now I eat entire mini tubs of ice scream and endless amounts of energy drinks and candy. I am not extremely overweight, as you cannot get by being super overweight in the junior enlisted portion of the navy as you have physical requirements to meet and maintain, but I am definitely nearing my max weight and I feel the pull of my uniforms over my enlarged and bloated stomach as I put them on. 

People in my training group frequently make comments about how I never go out over the weekends, that I stay in my room. Even my roommate makes such comments. I have told them numerous times to cut it the fuck out, because the comments really do cause a sort of triggering in my head. I immediately feel nauseous, that the world is watching me in laughter. I want to kill myself very much so, but the thought of my family keeps me going on. They love me so much, and are proud of me for what I am doing with my life. If it wasn't for them I would be in the ground right now, rotting. The thought of them crying and grieving over my lifeless body is worse than the suffering I am going through and have been going through for the past two years. 

I used to be extremely good with women. They were easy to talk to, and I was good looking and charming. I have had a few good, powerful relationships, although they have all ended badly due to my crippling attachment and jealousy, but that is a separate topic entirely. I had sex regularly and I was happy. But now that I am this creature, this Kafka-esque creature born of self-pity and disgust, I have started to despise women. I hate their beauty, their desire for sex, their promiscuity. It is ridiculous, I know. I cannot help but to feel like a bitter virgin when I have gone so long without intimate touch. I know there are those who have never felt intimacy with another person before, and my bitching may seem petty. Maybe so. But this is what I feel. 

I have kept these things bottled up inside of me. And I want to die. Do you remember the person you were before your acne came? Is there a difference really at all? I want to be able to live life with my condition if there is nothing I can do, but I do not want to live with it. I want a cure. I want healthy, pretty skin. I want to have friends. I want to be outside in the sun. I want to serve my time on my boat with pride, with my head held up high. But, somehow, I believe I will probably staring down at the tippiest toes of my steel toed boots. In the shadows. Out of sight. Where I belong. 

Here are some photos of me when the condition gets bad and when it sort of heals up. Night and day huh? It is rarely that bad as in the first pic, but it does come to it.