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Amar's Diary
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Though I might be safe, my life is still twisted in a pain I can't escape. (That was actually a really cool sentence).I'm a mod in a writing prompt group chat. Yesterday, I decided to do the prompt from the day before. The prompt was: "Include a sentence in your story that says, 'Guilt strikes when...' and finish the sentence."
My entry was a very hard, rough topic for a lot of people. It's hard for me too - I struggle with body image, and some possible mental health disorders, though I've never gotten to the point of ED. I also (used) to suffer from self-harm and suicidal thoughts. I don't know where this idea came from. Perhaps it's just one of those times that I don't notice that I need to release some kind of hatred of myself, but I don't want to actually suffer the pain. So I write a purgatory of words.
Here we go:
I stand before my bare body in the mirror. My eyes are tired, my undereyes bagging in light blue and lavender. My lips have fallen into a frown, still in a chapped, dry stage. My neck is shriveled into a double chin. My cheekbones almost look shrunken into my skin. A sick, sick look.
I pull off my rattled wig from the glue on my bald head, above my forehead littered with acne. My pierced, dainty, elf-shaped ears are visible now that I don't have a mop of hair falling over my uncovered, bony shoulders.
I sigh and plop myself onto the ground, holding my screaming head in my hands. I shake my head, trying to hide my ugly body from the sin that is me.
The sin that is me... sits before me. Just past the reflection in the mirror.
She sits within me.
The sin is me.
The sin... that is me can't ever hide from the crude demons with the crude words in my brain.
That is why I am a sin.
A mistake.
The thoughts shatter my tear ducts like boots to glass. I can't stop the liquid that is way too eager to fall down my rose-petaled face. A blush rises against my pale skin, an embarrassed flush dotting my face.
I lean against my before, not far from the long body mirror against the wall. I cup my hands around my shrunken, sick stomach. The one that I starved, if only to look like the pretty girl in the magazine.
I pull my legs closer to hide myself.
My sickness consumes my dehydrated, exhausted mind as I force myself to stop. To stop from reaching for the pair of scissors that rest upon my nightstand, clean from the last time I touched them.
No, Kallah, don't. Don't.... you don't-
I tell myself, though, I don't finish the everlasting promise of not touching the blades to my wrist for the second time this month.
What is the point of this life? Of the next? The third? How many might there be?
And why must we suffer this melancholy that is humanity?
Humility.
Hatred.
The loss of love.
Why must we?
I greet the stranger's eyes in the mirror once again. The girl who forgot who she was. The girl who hates herself. And might never stop.
Why must we be captured in a forever winter, of which we can't escape?
Bony feet rest on the floor at the bottom of the framed mirror. Terrible knees meet horrendous calves, underneath those of long, crawling fingers. Skinny thighs. A strained, breathless stomach. Above that ribs are visible under a strap of tight cloth that is my bra. A sunken collarbone joins a painful neck. A fleshy jaw, hard nose, and eyes. Disheartened ones. Not deadly. Not anymore. A bald, shiny head is above that.
An ugly woman stares back at me.
Guilt strikes when I see the woman I have become. The woman I have let myself become.
Just to judge myself more.
Here's another entry that I was writing the other day. A picture I wanted to lock and seal in a capsule. Random text 10/15/25
A landscape is laid before the world, the simple view a gift for humanity. The population should be thanking, bowing before their mother who had created this phenomenon.
Instead, they don't. They throw trash at her; words spit at her feet. The animals trembling against trunks of trees, in pain, whom she had formed.
A gift to be bowed upon.
A queen with a crown.
A badge of honor.
A life gifted to you to live.
A smile of power, despite the crude people who are left to her sister to catch.
The woman with love and life in her arms.
Clouds tower over people walking the streets in a city, just down the block. She weaves her soul into the trees. Her heart is stitched into rocks found in a river, holding her unleashed power. Her eyes that hold bewildered emotion crocheted into a red hibiscus in a little girl's hair.
Her mountains are soldiers, so much grander than what anyone else could be. They protect her land in their menacing beauty.
There's a song called "Cannonball" by Alex Sampson. It's about taking risks and living your life to its fullest.One of my favorite lines from it says, quote: "The grass might look greener on the other side, but the ground that you're standing on is just as bright." 💚
The pain was aggravating. I did have a migraine, just a few hours ago. I, eventually fell asleep, and the pain lessened. Before, it felt like it was in the bridge of my nose, my forehead, temples, and ears. Now, thank the Goddess, it's a small lingering pain and dizziness. I'm getting some water, Tylenol, and watching Gilmore Girls in my quiet, dimmed basement. Hopefully that helps.
I'm feeling better! I've been watching Gilmore Girls for the last three or so hours.
Soooooooooo where should I start?Today was freaking awesome - with minor setbacks/icks...
Today I woke up at 8:30. I did my hair/clothes. I didn't do a lot of makeup, I don't know why. I was kind of time-scrunched. Today's a Saturday, so I just kind of went crazy (hehe). I went to piano this morning, then to a bookshop (LAGG - today was their one-year birthday, for the one in my area. Don't forget to support your local bookstore). I got a drink and then went to a cute boutique (I was expecting it to be much more elegant!).
I spent basically my whole morning with my sis and my mama. When I got home, I got my headphones and called Bestie. I started organizing my bookshelf, and when she came over, she started helping me (thanks, girlie 😜). It took so long though, haha. Then we got Costa Vida, and continued some more. We finished around 9:30. Then, depressingly enough, I decided to be an idiot and let her do my makeup. (It's not this bad, by the way) I look like flipping Paris Warner from Shatter Me! (Barf🤢.) Bro, I don't even look like myself. Sadly, she just left. I did a prompt in Daily Writing Prompts (I did it, but it made me sad that no one else did the prompt!). And now I'm going to go take off the horrendous, itchy makeup, wash my face/skincare, take a shower and go to bed.
Night y'all!!
I woke up about an hour ago. Today I'm going to a pizza party with some of my closest friends.
I don't know what else we're gonna do except eeatand get fat with pizza.
I'm going to wear pajamas with these BIG legs and a grey tank top. I'm gonna do skincare, a little bit of makeup, curl my hair, etc.
I'm really excited. What should I do in the meantime, before it actually starts? It's at 5:30-9:30 and I don't have school tomorrow (WHOOP WHOOP)
It is currently midnight.I got back about an hour and a half ago. It was fun.... kind of felt forced and I was tired by the end of it.
The worst part was the fact that we went outside (at 10 pm, pitch black, chilly)... and though nothing happened, I'm a young woman, and I was scared someone was stalking/watching us.
My friend lives in a townhome, so she basically shares her backyard with 15 or so strangers.
I know I was being weird, and delusional, and making it into something that it's not... and perhaps I'm being dramatic, but I was genuinely scared some creep wearing all black would chase after us. It produced a good suspenseful paragraph though.
Me escalating my delusions:He chases after me, and I just try not to look back. Not look back at the masked face. The hair that covers his eyes. A hoodie over his head, hanging down his body. Oversized and baggy. He's wearing jeans. All black. I focus on the sound of my feet thudding the platforms I cross, and I almost trip. A cry escapes my lips as I regain my balance. My hair falls in my face. The moon reflects my feet as I take another wobbly step towards my home eternally far away from me. I look back again. He's disappeared.
Hell, why am I looking back?!
A voice rings in my ears. "Don't scream, my dear."
And then everything goes black.
Amara wrote: "It is currently midnight.I got back about an hour and a half ago. It was fun.... kind of felt forced and I was tired by the end of it.
The worst part was the fact that we went outside (at 10 pm, p..."
It's not delusional, you deserve to feel safe in your environment and unfortunately it's become the norm that young women can be in potentially dangerous situations almost anywhere. Stay safe out there.
Amara wrote: "Me escalating my delusions:He chases after me, and I just try not to look back. Not look back at the masked face. The hair that covers his eyes. A hoodie over his head, hanging down his body. Ove..."
Your descriptions are so vivid and beautiful (though the theme is scary 😭)
Amara wrote: "Me escalating my delusions:He chases after me, and I just try not to look back. Not look back at the masked face. The hair that covers his eyes. A hoodie over his head, hanging down his body. Ove..."
omg. That's scary and I feel that way too sometimes. For example in the morning when I walk down my street to the bus stop I get paranoid and check behind me pretty often.
Where I was when I started reading at 9:30-ish: Good Girl, Bad Blood - Chapter Two, page 24.Where I am now (I haven't been reading CONSTANTLY. I got food/a drink, and walked around a bit): Good Girl, Bad Blood - halfway through Chapter Eight, page 84.
Amara wrote: "Where I was when I started reading at 9:30-ish: Good Girl, Bad Blood - Chapter Two, page 24.Where I am now (I haven't been reading CONSTANTLY. I got food/a drink, and walked around a bit): Good Gi..."
WAIT my sister and mom are literally listening to the Good Girl Bad Blood audiobook right now and they're on chapter 8 that's crazy
I like listening to audiobooks and reading the book at the same time, just so I can stay consistent and not get distracted as easily
I like making fun of the reader's voices. 🤣
Amara wrote: "I like making fun of the reader's voices. 🤣"Reall
2:00: Good Girl, Bad Blood - Chapter Twelve, page 119
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