Jump to content
Acne.org
Search In
Find results that contain...
Find results in...

It's 1 am on a Wednesday morning. All is black and silent, aside from the bubble of light that is my room. There is a chill in the air. I'm in sweats and a t-shirt, my face spread thick with benzoyl peroxide and honey. I've been awake since five Tuesday morning, but feel good.

I wouldn't be caught dead looking like this, outside of my room-bubble. I would be made-up, hair-styled, jewelry-clad, outfit-selected; image-controlled. I'm male, but I love pulling off the "emo" look. My hair is dyed black, nails polished black; I own blue eye-shadow and purplish lipstick. I have recently adopted this image, and my motivations are admitted and transparent: I crave attention. And I've been getting some ... but not enough. I need ever-more attention. I need every single person to take fresh notice of me, to see me for how I look NOW, as opposed to the pustule-face image which for two years was all anyone would have remembered of me.

Most of all, I want M to look at me anew. Not only am I acne-prone; not only are my emotions tethered to a pendulum with an extremely wide and erratic arc which spends too much of its time aligned with fury and malaise; not only am I fond of vodka and champagne, an expert in wielding the knife to draw red lines down pale skin; not only are my hair and nails black, and my outlook blacker, tears born of sheer pent-up feeling barely restrained today at idle demonstrations of my mother's care for me, of which I am not worthy --

--Not only am I all this; I'm also queer as a three-dollar bill, and open about it, and pretty fucking lonely a lot of the time. I take perverse pleasure from wallowing in cliche. I'm dating somebody, nominally, someone who lives in New York whom I like (we've agreed to mutual non-monogamy; polyamory in action!), but ... M has been a fixture for nine full months now.

I first noticed him more than a year ago. A harmless crush; then a growing stirring; then an obsessive craving, an indomitable yearning; an utter plunge into numbness and then hatred (of myself primarily, and also of him) and then cutting myself and jumping out of my window (four bones broken in my feet; I still am not allowed to run, as they have not healed) and drinking. I don't blame him. I blame my own ridiculous level of emotional investment.

And though he nauseates me, though I wince at his name, though I freeze at the sight of him: I'm still attracted to him. And to others. To others who have not even deigned to notice me. Everything I do, I do to attract their attention. Because what else am I going to do?

Talk to them? Ha! How the hell am I supposed to approach a guy? First of all, I'm fucking hideous. In stark contrast to them; they are so beautiful. A good 20% of the high school population is so beautiful. And I often feel so unappealing and ugly. I gaze upon their skin under the fluorescent lights, and there are no flaws even under that pale washed-out light. I hate them so much even as I am attracted to them.

M knew me last year. If we were meeting for the first time on Friday, at the party -- the party prior to which I will have to down some hooch in order to endure his proximity -- then how would he feel? Damn it, I can't know! All is wasted on him! But I can't keep that in mind when I hear his voice, see his face.

And now -- I've consumed about fifty ounces of water tonight, taken a shot of olive oil, honey and BP on my face, apples. All this to supplement my already gluten-, dairy-, peanut-free diet. To achieve clarity by purging the toxins.

Because if my skin becomes such that I can angle my face up toward the fluorescent light, and I won't even have to contend with the light red-marks visible under the staunchest make-up (and believe me, I know how fortunate I am to have gotten as far as I have), then perhaps I can compete in that highest echelon.

And maybe they'll notice me. I have plenty of friends -- all female. I've turned down admirers, male and female. But the ones I admire have either declined (M did so in such a shitty, drawn-out, evasive way), or not noticed me whatsoever.

I have to change that, because the only other thing I have in my life is singing, and outlets for that are rare. I thought I wanted to write fiction; I called myself "writer" for ten years, from 6-16. Brought eleven novels to first-draft status; am still submitting two to agents, and am only getting personal rejections now, no more form letters. But for the past nine months I've been so dry, and I've realized how much I hate writing. But I love music.

And I love those people with their beautiful skin and beautiful bodies and oh, how I crave to be among them.

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

Bueatiful writing, although I'm sensing a great deal of self-hatred. Where does that come from?

(and I hear you about being dry. I've barely written anything creative in the last year, drives me nuts!)

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

*sniff sniff* Why can't us straighties be as refined and sensitive as gay men?

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

yes i agree with my sister, very well expressive writing. u did mention ur 15 right?? 15 was the worst age for me. social exceptance is bullshit at that age. this may sound cliche but it gets easier as u get older, or maby you jus give a less fuck of what people think, haven't figured that part out yet. but socially it gets a bit better.

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

I looked at a picture of myself and bile rose in my throat. I tasted vomit for a moment.

I looked in the mirror, and I had to get out.

So I fled. The bell rang to declare period's end, and I slipped out the back exit of the school. Noon on a Thursday, and I walked three miles to the mall, and I shopped for many hours. I went to the Ulta and picked up all sorts of products which may, possibly, make my skin look presentable. Yet I had been so sure of my own attractiveness, I had thought my skin to have been so improved ...

It was disgusting. Such visible blotchiness. Scars that will not fade for years, and maybe never completely; I can only get more and better make-up, try to cover them up.

I felt good in the aftermath of the shopping; I was taking steps to look decent. Got all sorts of new topicals and clothes.

But now I see the future; an empty vista.

Since I abhor the life of the fiction writer, it will not be mine.

Rather, I will drift forward. Spend four years in college, starting this coming September; likely embroil myself in all sorts of drama. Maybe I'll discover an academic field I care about. Maybe I'll -- and I'm shuddering at the very thought, cannot abide by it, it is anathematic -- get into some kind of committed, long-term relationship.

And then it will be over. And I will have to make a living somehow, and it won't be by writing. Perhaps I will be able to break into the music industry, but I am not confident. The music industry makes the publishing business look tame, and that's saying a /lot/.

So I will have to get some sort of job. And maybe I'll keep singing. And maybe I'll find or have found someone. But I will devote the majority of my hours, every day, to laboring for someone else. And I will not be fulfilled. It will be just like high school, only more time-consuming, and better-paying.

And I will die, and there will be no lingering art by which I can be remembered.

I will die.

I will die.

Why the /fuck/ should I care about anything when I know I'm going to die? And when I know that I will probably be ugly, will still have these scars, will still be so fucking ugly, when my body is laid to rest in its grave, so that the worms and the maggots and the fungi and the parasites may nibble upon cold flesh?

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites
That really is an interesting style of writing you have;really quite vivid and almost even poetic. :think: I would buy your work, if you ever do get published. It really is that good :clap:

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

Nice writing, man.

But damn I hate this emo trend. Maybe that's why you're lonely? I know my mates and I would never want to talk to the dude cloaked in black, trying to be hardcore.

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

Especially if he speaks with a lisp.. and instead of black, his chosen color is pink.

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

A tip for men.... be like this guy, but dont cut yourself and wear black. (not saying you do...)

but im just saying i know so many 'emo' kids who have girls all over them, but they are too depressed to care, or they like men....

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

For about two months I was cutting myself. I haven't for a few weeks. Been craving hooch. One bottle of champagne in the fridge, mostly empty, and if I drain it my parents will wonder where it has gone; so I wait for them to open a new one, so that I may skim.

My dramatic stylistic choices have added to my popularity. If I didn't find my physical appearance repulsive I'd probably be happy.

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites
For about two months I was cutting myself. I haven't for a few weeks. Been craving hooch. One bottle of champagne in the fridge, mostly empty, and if I drain it my parents will wonder where it has gone; so I wait for them to open a new one, so that I may skim.

My dramatic stylistic choices have added to my popularity. If I didn't find my physical appearance repulsive I'd probably be happy.

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

hm, my hair is naturally kind of black. I wonder if I grew it out and wore mostly black if I could pass as an emo kid without doing the whole makeup/lipstick deal.

what do emo kids put in their hair cavillor?

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites
hm, my hair is naturally kind of black. I wonder if I grew it out and wore mostly black if I could pass as an emo kid without doing the whole makeup/lipstick deal.

what do emo kids put in their hair cavillor?

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites
hm, my hair is naturally kind of black. I wonder if I grew it out and wore mostly black if I could pass as an emo kid without doing the whole makeup/lipstick deal.

what do emo kids put in their hair cavillor?

greese from not showering

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites
hm, my hair is naturally kind of black. I wonder if I grew it out and wore mostly black if I could pass as an emo kid without doing the whole makeup/lipstick deal.

what do emo kids put in their hair cavillor?

greese from not showering

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

wake up. this is life. it is beautiful. no matter how bad acne is. you need to see past it. you are given an opportunity. even to breathe, compared to nothing at all. trust me. there are others out there just like you, and others out there who are much worse than your situation. Look at children in africa starving, or someone with aids, or having nothing at all. There are treatments, there are options. Chill. your letting your own depressive writing guide you to more misery. yes you are a very talented writer, but dont let it feed your sadness.

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites
*sniff sniff* Why can't us straighties be as refined and sensitive as gay men?

Yeh why cant we throw ourselves out of windows and break the bones in our foot?

Was an interesting read, very well written - genuinely surprised when you said you were male in the second para and then sort of realised why you were being so over the top when you said you were both emo and gay. I suppose your doing yourself no favours being so image sensitive but hey all the best writers were twisted emontional wrecks right? Send some more novels out. Then grow up and really start to write.

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

Oh come on read it back through, your unashamedly striving for cyber attention as well as attention in your real life! The opening lines connotate feminine beauty problems, I actually thought you had done that on purpose but apparantly not. How are you not a twisted emotional wreck? Jumping out of a window makes you pretty unstable in my book. Speaking of books, it does look like you have potential to write but alas you seem too immature as of now, hence this thread. Once you ditch the whole 'woe me' attitude you might get somewhere.

I find it pathetic that you invest your creativity in something so self absorbed and melodramatic and I thought I should tell you. So again, my advice is to grow up.

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

15-year-olds are supposed to be self-absorbed and melodramatic anyway. My mannerisms and behavior weren't so mature at that age either. In fact, I have people tell me that I'm still not so mature now at age 20 but they can all go to hell.

Of course with that said I found it impossible to get through his posts in their entirety because they're so sappy and maudlin (you know, just like emo 15-year-olds are supposed to be), but I don't think your implication that he's "wasting" his creativity here is correct at all because when it comes to writing there is no wasting your talents. Every little bit of practice helps.

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

Your right. I think the initial post just got on my nerves more than anything, its not my place to say what you want to write about Cav but dragging out and dramatising something just for attention when people (myself included) have gone through horrible depressions because of acne annoys me. I didn't know you were 15 either so maybe I should of paid more attention to your post but it was hard to wade through all that 'emotion'.

I never went through anything like this when I was 15 though I must say. I'm pretty sure my younger sister is an 'emo' though so there must be something to it.

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites
Your right. I think the initial post just got on my nerves more than anything, its not my place to say what you want to write about Cav but dragging out and dramatising something just for attention when people (myself included) have gone through horrible depressions because of acne annoys me. I didn't know you were 15 either so maybe I should of paid more attention to your post but it was hard to wade through all that 'emotion'.

I never went through anything like this when I was 15 though I must say. I'm pretty sure my younger sister is an 'emo' though so there must be something to it.

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

Join the conversation

You can post now and register later. If you have an account, sign in now to post with your account.

Guest
Reply to this topic...

×   Pasted as rich text.   Paste as plain text instead

  Only 75 emoji are allowed.

×   Your link has been automatically embedded.   Display as a link instead

×   Your previous content has been restored.   Clear editor

×   You cannot paste images directly. Upload or insert images from URL.


  • Personalized Advice Quiz - All of Acne.org in just a few minutes


×