I was the kid no one liked. The one who's unpretty, worthless, weird, too skinny and an attention seeker. Some people were blunt. They said everything to my face and didn't care how I felt at all. Others talked behind my back but through the faint whispers I could still hear it, although I pretended I didn't. What these kids didn't know was that there were reasons for why I was the way I was. I was never excepted by my family, how was I suppose to be excepted by my peers?
I may be unpretty but it's because I've completly given up. How do you expect a sleep deprived, depressed, anxious girl to look? Both girls and guys these days expect you to wear 3 pounds of makeup, if your hair is naturally straight; you curl it, if your hair is naturally curly; you straighten it. They expect you to have big boobs hanging out of your shirt and your butt peeking out from the bottom of your jean shorts. I'm sorry, but if that's what pretty is, I've completly given up. I have no chance.
How was I suppose to be worth something? I was constantly told everyday that my heart and body meant nothing. I was told that all they were was toys for boys. I was sold to different older men everyday by the man that was suppose to teach me how a man was suppose to treat you. All he ended up teaching me was that I was worth nothing, not to him, not to my mom, not to anyone. The one man that was suppose to love me to his very last breath, used me as a prositute to make money for drugs. My mom? She never spoke up for me. When she wasn't on the drugs I could see in her eyes she hated what he did to me, but she could never speak up. As for when she was on drugs, she helped him do everything he did to me.
Weird. What can I even say.. I'm weird because I'm quiet and I can't trust? Well you see, being tossed around group homes, foster homes and being placed just about anywhere they can find that has an extra room in the house; it doesn't make you the most outgoing and upbeat child. It doesn't make you the most trusting either. Everyone that has been in my life has screwed me over, I've been bullied by kids at school, prostituted by my birth father, beated to the point where I was fighting for my life multiple times by people at group homes and past foster fathers. So yeah, I guess if you want to call me weird for being quiet and keeping to myself you can; because sometimes it gets so bad that I mentally can't talk. Even if I wanted to my brian won't let me.
They called me way too skinny, and eventually I got the nickname Twig. They said that I starved myself and that I was just doing it for the attention. What they didnt know was that in homes, the foster kids never get fed, they are basically slaves for the parents and everyone else. If you were lucky when everyone was out dining on a five course meal, you would be left behind a piece of bread just so your body wouldn't give out from having no food. And when I found my right home, the ones that did care for me, I was already so messed up that whenever I have even a crumb my stomach would flip, and there was no way I could keep anything down. I'm anorexic now, not because I hate the way I look but because of how I was treated.
They don't get it. They think I choose to be this way and that I had a choice. They see my scars and my skinny, almost lifeless body. The scars, well thats stupid. You cut yourself because you want people to see the cuts and give you attention. If thats the case then why do you only see them when they turn to scars and I have to wear shorts and a shirt for gym? You think they were my choice, the way I see it, in my life this was the only thing that was pernament to me, and I know you will never understand why hurting myself felt okay for me. But, it was because I needed something pernament. I needed this to feel even a little okay. So even though I stayed in the back grounds of everything, everyone still thought I was an attention seeker just because of my body and the scars.
I'm sorry that I ruin everything because I am ruined myself.
My name is Zenaya and this was my story, this was my life.
Author Notes: This is not a true story, but was inspired by true events.
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Canada • 22 years old