depressed

i have contemplated for so long and now i decided that it is not a shameful business to show my inner feelings. Yes, i admit that i was already grappling with low self-worth and self esteem for some time. And for a justifiable cause-my acne....

For so long they have lain dormant, i thought this despicable scourge was finally laid to rest in my distant memory until 2 months back. They turn with vengeance and they are angry red. Zits. Arghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh! i hate them!!! Other than being numerous, they are also higly inflammed.

Being the logical person i'm (despite my explosive reaction), i decided to consult books and find out what's really wrong and hopefully nip the problem in the bud. Despite being a hypochondriac, it did not amount to anything. I was frustrated. There i was, delighted by a discovery of a promising solution, looking upon it as if it was the holy grail only to be disappointed eventually. This chain of dastardly events were to repeate itself in a accursed cycle. Again and again... This was bound to have some emotional impact on me. To others, i appear as a scruffy fella who couldn't be bothered. I was hurt by this impression.

My parents and relatives beckon me to do something about it. Wash your face more thoroughly, avoid heaty food, take this, take that. The problem is, who did notice the laborious efforts that i did undertake? Who did acknowledge that i imposed on myself an extremely srtict dietary regimen? I began blaming and hating... I hated my face for being like that. Despite all the careful attention i gave to my face, all i saw was zits and plenty of them. Swollen and angry red. Hate, i really hate myself.

Why is the world so unfair? Such that some people could take tonnes of injustice to their skin and still emerge unscathed literally? While i on the other hand, laboured and toiled for nothing. I really feel isolated from the rest of my peers. Inevitably i would observe the faces of people around me and immediately, the issue of my complexion would hit me again like a scalding slap! To one of my friends, i turned vain for i was always looking in the mirror. i wondered what thoughts were going through him as i glanced frantically in the mirror. Unbeknownst to him all these while, i harbour an uneasy relationship with the mirror. Like the mirror in "Snow White and the 7 Dwarfs", i regarded it as inherently evil. But i just can't resist taking a look. What kind of strange psychological condition i was entertaining seems uncertain to me. But for sure, it's something wrong.

On one hand, i really really dread looking at the mirror for it hurts me terribly. I just can't conceive what happened over these few years... What happened to the cute baby in my father's hand? That it silently and vapidly spawned into such a ugly thing that's i, walking the world today? What is it that i've done so as to deserve the agony of having to painfully avoid looking at myself straight in family photoghraphs? Where did my dad's and my mum's good lucks gone into? wasted into the smouldering hulk that is i today? The zits, they hurt me so much. It doesn't help much that i look condecendingly evil and odd with my thick bushy eyebrows and perpetual angry expression.

I hate photographs of my self as i believe that i'm not phtogenic. Believe me, i am already generous with euphemism here. Ironically, I indulge in hobby photography. Sorry for the digression from the mirror... Though on one hand i dread looking at the mirror which i believe now is the tool of the devil, i cannot resist stealing a look on it sometimes. Just as a wounded animal would lick its own wounds in self-pity and empathy, my actions are likewise similar. I am thoroughly beyond hope in this sense.

I was once buoyed with hope that what came with puberty would be swiftly brought away with its departure... I'm not so sure now that i read that acne vulgaris is for life... Why is life so cruel to me... I'm not handsome or anything, at least give me an unblemished skin... I know people are muttering thoughts in their minds. The first impression is largely constituted by the face of course. Why am i the odd one? I think i wouldn't want to meet anyone anymore... it's cruel without an ounce of compassion.