Color

I said, “I’m blushing”

You replied, “Excellent, now you’ll have some color in your skin.”

I hope it was a joke. I think it was a joke. I know it wasn’t.  A harmless comment such as this shouldn’t affect me as severely as it has. What you don’t realize is that while you said this without hesitation, my thoughts instantly sounded like this: oh my goodness he hates my skin and everything about me I need to tan now should I buy tanning cream should I go to a tanning salon maybe I should’ve been wearing makeup more often I look like a vampire he thinks I’m pale and ugly and he hates me it’s over I’m done for I’ll never be tan and perfect like he probably wants he has skin of honey while mine is as white as paper I need to do something about this what else doesn’t he like about me but is too afraid to tell me he hurts me just like everyone else does he looks at me and sees the monster I’ve always known I am he’s only with me because I entertain him with my ugly pale skin and messed up everything else I’ll never be good enough for him he’s perfect and I suck I should just break up with him now I knew he could never like me for how I am now no one could no one will…

Yes, it seemed innocent, but I’m damaged. I have deep fractures that take just a tiny touch to shatter my entire frame.

My thoughts raged, but all I came back with was, “You’re mean.”

You took it as a joke, but I meant it.

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