I hate my face. I hate my body. I hate my hair. I hate myself.

Ikegami Yoriyuki (source)

I hate how easily my breath hitches every time a contestant gets kicked out of Masterchef Junior. I hate that I can never hold my feelings down. I hate how I’m almost always unnecessarily vulnerable to people I’m close with. I hate how I cannot run without feeling like my lungs are about to combust. I hate how I can never seem to find a perfect fitting top; it’s either too tight on the sleeves or too tight on the bust. I wish I’m skinnier so I can wear nice clothes. I wish I have a thigh gap so I wouldn’t look ridiculous in shorts. I wish I’m skinny so I wouldn’t look out of place in group photos. I wish I have slimmer thighs and a more defined behind so I wouldn’t have to struggle and squeeze just to get into my jeans. 

I wish my eyes, and my eyelids, are even. My right eye is much smaller than my left, I have to flip my selfies so I wouldn’t look weird. I hate that no matter how hard I try to look ‘nice’ I’d still look like I saw people’s heads off for fun. I wish I like nicer music, music with some ‘depth’ to it - whatever that means. I wish I have nicer hair that doesn’t gave in to humidity so I wouldn’t have to fuss with flat iron every day. 

I hate that I can never just look nice.

I hate how my body can never seem to get anything right. 

I hate that I am the way I am. 

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But I secretly love my ability to symphatize to even the cruelest stories. I like that people rely on me and that some of them even trust me with their secrets. I like that a lot of people think I’m nice. People think I’m nice and they want to get to know me better because I look like I’m nice. I like how people always compliment my handwriting, saying it looks like a computer font. I like that some people think I have great taste and that I am always able to appreciate people’s taste. I like how I never forget to say please and thank you, and how I am able to stay pleasant regardless of my mood. I’m surprised that there are actually quite a lot of people who want to be friends with me. I’m not pretty per se, but I have had my own fair share of compliments, appearance wise. I like my eyes because it looks sharp. I even like my mouth because it makes me look fierce, although sometimes I came across as menacing instead. I like how my hair attracts compliments sometimes - I get people asking me are my curls real? Did I get them professionally curled? I also like how pouffy it gets sometimes, I like to believe it makes me look lively. And you should see just how nice the color looks under the sun! 

I love that despite how many times I’ve cursed my body and my self - constantly putting it under ridiculously tight and unfair scrutiny and through ridiculous ‘diets’ - it never breaks down. It doesn’t even listen to the mean things in my head, it keeps on being strong and not buckling down, providing me with healthy working organs and supporting me even at the toughest of times. The stretch marks on the back of my knees, acne scars on my back, they’ve become my own personal crests and badges of courage. 

I like that I can always seem to find positive things to be grateful about. 

I like that I never give up on me. 

I like that I am the way I am. 

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I like that even though I hate myself so much, 

the paragraph of me listing the things I love about myself 

ended up being much longer

than the one listing the things I hate.