nonfiction

5 Minutes: Zit Maturity

My face hurts. Despite my increase presence of worry lines, I have zits. The same kind of zits that spread on my face at the age of 15,16,17…
I had different problems then, I guess. I had the deep rooted fear of no one ever wanting me. The idea of dying alone without ever having anything.
Now, I am afraid of losing. The idea of having something is also the idea of having something yours being lost to the wind. God can only taketh, if he giveth first.
The lord has giveth. He gives too much: or she. “Too much leash and you might strangle yourself. But people have hung themselves with short ropes, ropes as short as belts or shoe laces. Things that had tied multiple times without the presence of a neck.
Instead of rope burns, I have zits. I stress myself into it. I stress so much my face punishes me with pustules, that my undiagnosed OCD picks at until they are scabs.

Oddly, I have never scarred. Scars come from healing, and I guess i’ve never been healed.
I hurt in different ways, I hate that i can eat well all day but then get so hungry i binge eat mcdonalds, and eat it before i can find the remote to my garage. So I ooze, grease.

When I was 15 I looked 15. No one expected anything of me. Now, it depends. To some people I look 30, and they expect me to have some sense of self. Other times I get talked down to like someone who has never made their own dentist appointment.
Truthfully, I”m somewhere in the middle even though my acne stays the same, just angry and angsty with age.

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