Binge eating and forgotten films

I feel so stupid because i can't see it. The mere shadow of the fact alludes me. You hear it all the time, over-used on the lips of those deemed "caring" but its not quite the most factual truth. You call me pretty, cute, beautiful. Tossing aside such a compliment into the foul air, as if it means something when instead the words only mix around in my mind and come out the other side, a jumbled mess of letters in a foreign tongue. I know the truth, i see it everyday. The media, the public, the moving, shifting masses of bodies that sidle down the sidewalk on their way to "life as always". They are the ones who are beautiful, not me. Whats worse, i long for it to be true. Lapping up compliments as a homeless puppy takes its share of water after a draught, always seeking more for fear that when it runs out i'll be empty once again. But such a life takes its toll and i know the truth. At its core im nothing, not even ugly enough to be mentioned, only a wasted space waiting for a truth that i can never become.