Insecurities

• Taj Stainsby, Grade 8
• Short Story
• 2021

I loved the warmth.

The only positive part of winter was the oversized jackets and the baggy pants. Maybe I needed to find more positives, and perhaps I just needed to get used to the cold. But when I looked into the mirror, well, everything was different. The part of me that loved summer was long gone, and I had already gotten used to the winter. I had forced myself to love it. How you may ask? One word;

Insecurities.

I change in and out of clothes, pulling every single piece out of my dresser. There I stand, focusing on the image in the mirror and deciding against my pants, my shirt, my jumper, wondering if it will ever be good enough. But nothing will ever be good enough. Not for me. The only clothing I wear is hot sweats. I've never shown much skin. But why?

Insecurities.

The thought of the beach sickens me because I have to show my body. "I can't go into the water." "Why are people staring at me?" I say to myself. But they don't understand. No one does. Picture-perfect people stare and groups of friends laugh. Are they laughing at me? Times were simpler when I was younger. There was nothing I could've possibly worried about. I loved summer. But now, I've forced it to be my enemy. How?

Insecurities.

"Do I really need to eat?" "What about if it's too much?" I think to myself. But in reality, the only person who is stopping me is me. When will I ever be enough! The scale is my second biggest fear. It shows me the numbers. But are those real? Because when I look in the mirror, it tells me otherwise. I don't know what to believe anymore. Anxious, nervous, traumatized about what people will think of me. Society. So I wear oversized clothes. It's the only way I feel confident. "Aren't you hot?" "Why don't you just take off the jumper?" "How are you wearing track pants?" I tell them I'm fine. But deep down, I'm not and I know it. How?

Insecurities.

They say as you get older, all of your worries will go away. But where is my happy ending? When will mine disappear? I tell myself I deserve this. All of it. I blame myself for everything. Because, after all, it is my fault, right? It's my fault I'm insecure. Exercising obsessively, restricting my diet, and for what, happiness? The oversized jackets. The baggy pants. I choose to wear them, and for what, confidence? Continuously checking the mirror, obsessing over the scale numbers, and for what, disappointment? Anxiously observing the surrounding people, being petrified of what people will think of me, and for what, fear?

I've realized the feeling of guilt will never go away. My happy ending will never come! But maybe it's for the better. Summer was everything when I was younger, but now winter's my favourite. How you may ask? One word;

Insecurities.