I'm supposed to be happy. I have things going for me. The boyfriend and I got approved for our house. I'm getting out if this shitty town. Away from these people who know I'm nothing. I have a fresh start. Yet I'm not happy. I'm not thin enough. I'm not pretty enough.
I'm not enough.
I haven't told my boss I'm leaving yet. I'll be gone by the seventh of next month and she still doesn't know. I know I'll disappoint her. She needs me and I'm letting her down.
I know it's silly to feel guilty about such a thing. But I absolutely hate letting people down and yet, I do it so often. I'm a failure and I know it.
I still can't be myself around the boyfriend. That night I got too drunk and cut my fat thighs up... I still have to hide the marks. He can't see what I do. He can't see how sick I really am.
The mask is fragile though. I'm slipping up. It's getting harder and harder to keep the smile in place. I can't always run to the bathroom for a quick cry. The slip ups in the act are getting more noticeable. I can't keep doing this.
I'm living a fucking LIE.
It won't stop. I can't stop. I have to keep going. It destroys me but not half as much as it would if I were to lose all that I worked so hard for. Carl means everything to me and he can't see this side of me. He deserves a girl that can be happy and perfect. I can't be that girl but I sure as hell am trying.
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