On my days off I sleep for ten+ hours, which is excessive and gross. I blame my new schedule, work, and my medication (the Latuda, specifically, which I recently increased and does nothing except make me more anxious). I want to decrease my dosage, against my doctor’s orders, but as bad as the side effects are now, I don’t want to know what the withdrawal will be like.
Jealousy permeates me to the core. I feel bad because I’m making others feel bad. No one wants to listen to someone tear themselves down, and incidentally blame others for their shortcomings, but it’s become habit for me now. I just looked at myself in the bathroom and was proud of the new glute muscle I’ve achieved–I’ve never had an ass before–but then immediately thought about how my best friend, who is more beautiful than I could ever dream to be, started doing squats so really, it doesn’t matter how many wall-sits or squats I do, or how toned my arms are, because I will always be the less attractive one.
It’s hard to be constantly surrounded by and associated with such beautiful people when you are not included in that sentiment. I know my friends don’t see it that way–how could they? I’m one of them, in their eyes, but I am not.
The thing is, it’s not as if I’m not trying. It’s just more effortless for other people. I have to try and look socially acceptable and I barely manage to do that, and I certainly do not pass for “attractive.” For my friends, they don’t have to do much. One of them doesn’t even wear makeup. The other lost weight because her medication decreased her appetite, so she just doesn’t eat. The other is just naturally alluring, but I haven’t quite figured out why.
This sounds pitiful, it really does, to go on and on about being less-than. But I know what I am.