if confidence is sexy what am i - my 100th post

I used to think I was pretty, but I’m not sure what happened.
I don’t feel that way anymore.
For a moment I think maybe it is just the winter blues; the pale skin and chapped lips do do me in during these winter months.
But that thought passes too and I stare into the mirror, into my closet, into the pages of magazines and I find myself cringing at the thought of myself.
It is a lonely feeling which makes me feel separate than the rest of the world. My lack of confidence seems unlike other girls around me.
I sweat out of my nervousness. I clench up because I am not pretty enough.
I’m not competing against anyone but myself so the winner and the loser are always me.
My clothes plot a mutiny against me but I am at a war with myself.
Don’t know what I have to offer the opposite sex except what is really underneath. I like it best when no one is looking and I’m not looking either. But, I live in the world, I am a human being - how would is it possible to ignore the others?
Surely I’d never succeed so I don’t even try.
I’m tired of these magazines but I’m exhausted by the photographs on facebook. I’m always starring, comparing, feeling bad about me.
Silently I put my head down, embarrassed by my belly weight, my hair, my skin, myself.
I’m embarrassed by my lack of fashion, I don’t fit in.
I used to be cool but now I don’t know.
I always felt awkward.
I remember in 8th grade when I was asked to do a speech at graduation, I was initially excited. Then they told me it’d be next to “Michelle” - the prettiest girl in 8th grade who already had boobs, already got her period, already had sex. And I thought this is terrible. How horrible that they are going to place me, this awkward child, next to her, this beautiful woman. And no doubt that graduation day I stood there with my head up but inside I was melting, my guts spilled on the floor covered in shame. I was embarrassed to be next to her, my awkward flat chest, my lack of hips, my scraggly hair..
I look for inspiration, I focus on the positive, I fling my closet door open with an umph and scout out a fantastic outfit.
But, the longer I stand there the more desperate I feel. I begin to melt into my closet, my shame spilled on the floor.
I’m not like other girls. I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t feel comfortable with me.