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You know, I mentioned this to Mum, I think it's so odd and a little funny--
the longer I hate myself, and the more I know how ugly and ungainly and unfortunate my own body is, at the same time, the more I'm so much more aware of how beautiful other people are. Sometimes it makes me want to cry it's so amazing. People are beautiful. Not just outwardly, of course, inside too; but people really are absolutely beautiful miracles. I love being around all people and watching them move and looking at the beautiful parts of them, even when I'm afraid to talk to them. There's just--there's something beautiful about every single human being.
I know my Mum isn't typically beautiful, but I always feel like I'm with somebody completely amazing when I'm with her, somebody stunning. And when I was at school that one day--I was with three girls named Molly and Silpa and Disha, and Molly was brown-eyed pretty, tall and thin and funny; and Disha was dark and beautiful, and light on her feet, and Silpa was just wonderful. Her hair was dead white, and her skin was a bit translucent, and her eyes were pinkish, but her hair was so pretty, I just thought it was unbelievable how white, and she was plump and pretty and so good to look at. All my people, too, they've got beautiful bits, and, well.
When I was at Sewanee, one of the professors who lectured for us was quite stout, but one day he wore a pair of trousers that made his legs look awfully slender, and I thought it was very handsome, and because of that I really did feel that he was very handsome all over, and after he'd spoken I said something to my roommate about how handsome and she just stared at me.
I don't know. People really are just so beautiful, and so marvellous. The way they can move and talk and their eyes and hands and the way their mouths look when they speak, and ankles and wrists and voices, and I just love people, I think they're incredible. It makes me all tight and breathless.
I don't understand why I don't like me, though. I'm a person too, I think, and it's probably just as marvellous that I can move and think, but somehow it doesn't feel that way. I really don't know why.
the longer I hate myself, and the more I know how ugly and ungainly and unfortunate my own body is, at the same time, the more I'm so much more aware of how beautiful other people are. Sometimes it makes me want to cry it's so amazing. People are beautiful. Not just outwardly, of course, inside too; but people really are absolutely beautiful miracles. I love being around all people and watching them move and looking at the beautiful parts of them, even when I'm afraid to talk to them. There's just--there's something beautiful about every single human being.
I know my Mum isn't typically beautiful, but I always feel like I'm with somebody completely amazing when I'm with her, somebody stunning. And when I was at school that one day--I was with three girls named Molly and Silpa and Disha, and Molly was brown-eyed pretty, tall and thin and funny; and Disha was dark and beautiful, and light on her feet, and Silpa was just wonderful. Her hair was dead white, and her skin was a bit translucent, and her eyes were pinkish, but her hair was so pretty, I just thought it was unbelievable how white, and she was plump and pretty and so good to look at. All my people, too, they've got beautiful bits, and, well.
When I was at Sewanee, one of the professors who lectured for us was quite stout, but one day he wore a pair of trousers that made his legs look awfully slender, and I thought it was very handsome, and because of that I really did feel that he was very handsome all over, and after he'd spoken I said something to my roommate about how handsome and she just stared at me.
I don't know. People really are just so beautiful, and so marvellous. The way they can move and talk and their eyes and hands and the way their mouths look when they speak, and ankles and wrists and voices, and I just love people, I think they're incredible. It makes me all tight and breathless.
I don't understand why I don't like me, though. I'm a person too, I think, and it's probably just as marvellous that I can move and think, but somehow it doesn't feel that way. I really don't know why.
