Never Enough
Whenever I see beautiful women, I feel unnatural feelings. I get the urge to want that kind of beauty, the beauty that would consume him, every thought and pulse inward, never tempted by another woman, never feeling anything for her. I imagine that if I had that beauty, people wouldn’t watch me cry, and they wouldn’t dare to hurt me. They would guard me in a glass, terrified of letting me break. They would make me feel secure.
You may wonder—Am I insane? Maybe. Do I fear beautiful women? Yes. I admire them as much as I despise them—Because beauty draws men like blood draws wolves. I know that if he saw their glow, he would imagine them in ways he should only imagine me—moments of intimacy burned into his mind. That is why I hate them. That is why I ask myself “Why am I not beautiful enough to chain his eyes only to me? Why am I not enough to live in his mind, alone?”
These thoughts exhaust me, drowning me in grief. Even in sleep, nightmares show me the one I love craving others, even if just for a fleeting moment. When I wake, I feel rabid, manic.
So I ache for the blade—longing to carve into my skin, to peel it back strip by strip, until there is no blood left in me, so no one can measure its redness against those beautiful women’s veins. I would slit my throat, let the arteries burst open like rotting vines. I would gouge out my eyes so they never again compete with another woman’s gaze. I would tear the flesh from my waist, chest, thighs, hips, hands, and face.
But I fear my bones too, because they might also be compared. So I would burn them into ash, until no one could feel anything for me. If I destroy my parts, erase the curves and shapes, there will be no fear of not being enough. Cause only then, nobody would channel other women through me for their desire.
Their beauty is my executioner. And I want to be nothing but dust.
Because my flesh and bones were never loved solely, never exclusively. Only then will I no longer be a body trembling with fear, whispering: I will never be enough. cause at the end of the day, I believe the love I crave doesn’t exist.
~ Never enough by misanthrope._person
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