
This will be my last post here. 
I’ve been told that I’ve revolved my existence around my appearance and that it’s tiring because it’s always the same shit. 

I’m getting professional help starting next week, so I won’t have to rely on the sub anymore to feel understood. 

For my whole life, i’ve felt like an outcast. I was born at 23 weeks with a cleft lip and palate as well as mild cerebral palsy that I developed from being dead at birth. In the process of being revived, my left vocal cord was paralyzed by the breathing tube that saved me. Anything that I tried to eat as a baby, I’d vomit back up so I had to have a feeding tube to continue living. 

I was adopted at 3 months after being in foster care and my adoptive mother remembers the times that I’d suddenly go silent in the car, only for her to look in the rearview mirror at my lips turning blue. 

For future reference, My father always seemed too busy to hang out with me, he’d rather watch tv. He’d always post-pone things to get me off his back. One of the only times he made plans was with me was because it was my 13th birthday. He’s supportive but not outwardly loving. His father was the same way. Nonetheless I’ve always looked up to him so it made me feel small. 

I remember entering kindergarten already feeling like I didn’t fit it. Something felt “off” but I was too young to understand what that was. 

I eventually made it to third grade and I found myself with casts on both of my legs, being pulled out of class for speech and PT, and generally wondering why I had to be separated from my peers.

Why did everyone else get to play outside while I had to sit in a wheelchair and watch everyone on the playground through a window? 

What about me is so funny for kids to laugh at?

Why could nobody hear me when I spoke? 

I graduated from being told that I would never walk, to a wheelchair, and eventually onto a walker. 

I remember my classmates walking past me in the halls like I was nothing more than an obstacle in their way. 

I ended up abandoning my walker, being able to walk independently, and finally developing enough projection in my voice to no longer whisper when I spoke. 

As I became more socially integrated, I encountered bullying from the same children that I would envy through the window.

They’d make fun of my face and laugh my existence into the ground. I specifically remember developing one of my first crushes, only for her friends to mock and laugh at me after she found out that I of all people, liked her. I came home that day bawling my 9 year old eyes out, asking my mom why they were so mean. That day was  the first time I looked in the mirror and saw more than my personality within my reflection. 

As I entered junior high the insults started to make sense. It all made sense. Now when I’d get called “fuckface” “hair-lip” and “retarded” I finally had an explanation. All I had to do was ask the teacher if I could go to the bathroom so I could look in the mirror. 

This self destructive cycle began an obsession with my face that would slowly replace my happiness with self-hatred. 

I entered high school as an extremely shy, introverted, anxiety riddled teenager. I was pushed into joining a sport by a junior who wouldn’t stop asking. All of the sudden, I was on the wrestling team. I didn’t win a single match that year, my teammates would bully me whenever I wasn’t on the wrestling mat, and anxiety skyrocketed when my name was called for every match.

When that whistle blew, everyone around me melted away, and lose or not, it was the only time that I wasn’t afraid. I ended up going to wrestling camps the following summer and came back my sophomore year more ripped than I could I ever imagine. I remember asking my mom “why do girls that never notice me in school, look at me when take my shirt off?”. Long story short, I won my first match of the season, wrestled with a 103 fever on one occasion because I didn’t want to quit, and was ultimately put in my school paper for my perseverance. I was asked by one of my biggest bullies who was in journalism in school if I wanted my medical history mentioned and I told him “no”. 
I’ve always deeply hated being seen as a martyr. 

I wrestled for one more year, left the sport as a senior, and got some cosmetic surgery instead. When I was in the hospital after waking up, I managed to start talking to the first girl who didn’t see me the way that I saw myself. She was close enough to visit IRL so when I healed I had my mother drive me to her house. 
I remember telling her to turn around on the way but she refused to for my well-being.

I was elated to finally have someone that was genuinely attracted to me but in the year and a half that I was with her she was physically/mentally abusive. She cheated, gaslit me, put her hands around my neck, told her cousin that I was ugly and bad at sex, put me in jail on false abuse charges which cost me the two jobs I had at the time, and ripped my best friend away from me after the charges got dropped because they were seeing each other behind my back and he ultimately abandoned me too.

The last thing she told me was

 “You’re going to die alone because nobody likes you”

I was destroyed. 

I didn’t want to ever get that close to anyone again. 

Going forward, I only dated polar opposite girls compared to my ex. That led to me going after alternative women. I figured that if my emotions and feelings weren’t appreciated after giving my all to someone, at the very least, I could be a physical source of company. I only felt useful through sex because otherwise, I was the human equivalent of watching paint dry to protect myself emotionally. They would inevitably leave, and it would trigger my compulsion to assume that it was because of everything wrong with me that I couldn’t control.

“Why wouldn’t they leave? Look at me.”

I moved out at 21 with one of my friends after becoming very suicidal from feeling “stuck” in life and I had a new girl over every other week. 

They were pretty and all but I honestly developed an unhealthy need to be loved. 

The only problem was, all I knew how to do was get them naked. I felt like a repulsive spider, catfishing women into my web. 

I only wanted to be with the one’s that didn’t want me, and I didn’t want the ones that did. 

I wanted love, but was too scared of mutual attachment. 

My dull, fear-fueled personality created a self-fulfilling prophecy of them losing interest. 

But I thought that’s what I deserved. 

I always told my mother “imagine going to get a new phone, but the new one you wanted hasn’t came in yet, and the only one you could walk out with was the one with a cracked screen… that phone is me”

I feel like a product of desperation. 

Like the “I’m lonely” guy. 

Or the “pity fuck” guy. 

Human filler. 

I remember my roommate’s friends saying things like 

“What’s wrong with your face”

“I’m going to be honest, the first time I saw you, you put me on edge and made me extremely uncomfortable”

“Did you get hit with a brick or something”

Even my friend that I was living with made a joke after he put me in a group photo on Snapchat with a filter

“It’s not working on you because your face is fucked up 😂”

Only for him to be confused as to why I hate myself because “you get more girls than me, obviously you don’t look like the monster you think you do” 

After living at my first apartment I moved out on my own because I felt like if I moved back home, I would’ve been stepping backwards in life.

I moved out with barely enough money, lost my new job after 3 weeks because I kept waking up late, and rotted away for 3 months. 

I kept myself in my one bedroom apartment by pawning everything that I cared about because I was afraid of coming home a failure. My friends/family would rarely ever come see me. All I did was eat buttered noodles, sleep, and only open my door to grab eviction notices. My cat was the only thing keeping me alive.

I eventually got a new job at a warehouse putting cups in boxes alone at my station and even though that job was absolutely soul sucking, it kept me from crawling home to my father’s disapproval. 

While I worked there, I practically never spoke, made no friends, and spent every lunch break alone in my car. I was on an evening schedule with rotating shifts so my already nonexistent social life was even worse. I would get home at 12am, everyone I could’ve texted was asleep, and I worked every weekend. I’d just sit by myself and listen to music while smoking my loneliness away every night. 

At this point, my anxiety peaked to the point where all I could ever think about was how people saw me, and how I could socially hide. 

To the point where if people talked to me at the bar, I would freeze. 
Any source of acknowledgment towards my existence would be met with looping negative thoughts.

“I hope they’re not looking at my lip”

“I hope me opening my mouth won’t attract attention”

“I hope they’re not laughing about me over there”

While I lived in my apartment I never went outside without a mask, nobody at my job ever saw what I looked like, I only took my garbage out when the sun fell, and the only time I wouldn’t cover my face was at the bars. In my mind, they’d all be too drunk to make fun of me anyways. 

I was more isolated than I’ve ever been, and I was convinced that I deserved it. 

I kept wearing a mask absolutely everywhere until my insurance finally approved a major double jaw/plastic surgery operation. I was so excited to not have to see that pathetic freak in the mirror anymore. Only for it to be it was ripped away from me the next week after I was told that I’d have to pay out of pocket. 

I spiraled. 

I didn’t show up to work, got sued by my complex even after pawning all my stuff again that I managed to finally buy back months before, and I felt utterly hopeless. 

I found a way out of my eviction, settled the lawsuit by applying for multiple payday loans, ultimately got approved for my operations, packed all my stuff, and went home to get ready to go to the hospital. 

I spent months in a small spare bedroom at my parents. I was in unending pain, waiting for the bones in my face to refuse and receiving multiple cosmetic surgery’s afterwards.

It was a very isolating period of healing but I chose to do this to myself for a happy future. 

In reality I was crying to myself because it wasn’t enough. I still didn’t look “normal” and I STILL hated myself. My surgeon refused to touch me anymore because I’m not rational, insurance refuses to pay because any other surgery on my face isn’t considered a medical need, and I STILL feel like a pathetic freak. 

After about a year of depressed unemployment I met my current girlfriend, got my first DUI because she wanted me to meet her coworkers and I couldn’t do it sober, I’ve been “emotionally dead/distant” according to her, she tried to kill herself in my bathroom after getting drunk because of her own trauma, I had to wrestle a switchblade away from her that ended with me getting bruised/scratched, I took her to rehab the next morning, and cleaned up the rest of the blood off my bathroom floor when I got home. 

She hates how I show no emotion, and that when I do, she can tell that it’s not natural. 

She’s done some sus shit but she’s great so please don’t be mean to her, I’m proud that she’s helping herself and I plan to do the same as far as my anxiety, depression, and whatever else is wrong with me goes.  

With all that said, it’s difficult not to wish I wasn’t here and I yes, regardless of everything, I feel bad about being emotionally vacant. 

I don’t want to be that guy that sits by himself and doesn’t speak unless spoken to anymore. 

TLDR: I’m getting professional help. 



[M24] I’m done.