Words, as harsh as they can be, can also heal any open wound if we allow them to. “you are beautiful regardless of what they say” she whispers in my year near the balcony at the Irish pub. She hugs me tight and tells me to stay strong. I am her inspiration, kind of like a love song. See, I know I can aspire to inspire but to actually hear someone say that I inspire them to be better makes all the difference in my life. They all know what im facing and look at me with pity. I’m a borderline alcoholic with too much alcohol in her system. Im mixing toxins and engaging in unprotected sex and all for what? To feel alive? To feel good? To feel beautiful? These men feed of my insecurities and I feed off their fake affection. We feed each other’s egos’ with sex and cigarettes. I don’t know how to act if I don’t feel wanted. I only know how to exist when I am wanted. Girls like me are hardly ever wanted, you know. I’m used up and sad and drunk and perpetually waiting by the phone for someone to pick up and tell me that I did good. but I didn’t do good. I failed at this, and failed at that and feel victim to this and fell victim to that. And all for what, to feel alive, free and liberated? I feel humiliated and ashamed. That jerk Turkish guy had the nerve to look me straight in the eye and push me away like I was some piece of garbage he had already used. Or that other guy who found it funny to insult my weight because as he put it “if your going to act like a man, you better take it like a man” so there wasn’t any room for me to feel sensitive. All I wanted and all I still want is for someone to help me out and stand and sleep by my side regardless. But I guess I cant have that until I learn to love and respect myself. To feel comfortable in my own skin. I need to go on a journey of self-discovery. And that journey starts tonight.