The Thing about Acne

The thing about acne is that it makes you want to die.

I remember going to the dermatologist when I was in high school because my acne flared up all of a sudden. There were pictures of the stages of acne severity on a poster beside her table. I remember being consoled because mine could be categorized as mild acne. Every time I’d break out after that, I’d think of those people in the picture and thank God that my face problem isn’t as big as theirs.
Now that I practically don’t have a face anymore, I remember those pictures and I see myself in them. I am categorized as severe. Worst. It has me feeling suicidal—yes, suicidal—for the past couple of weeks. When I had myself checked up by a different doctor here in Cebu, I was positive it’d be gone in a month. Woe is me. It got even worse. And my fear has finally punched me literally in the face—I am now unarguably ugly.

My friends will tell me I don’t look that bad. I’ll probably tell them the same thing if they were in my situation. But the only thing that can’t lie tells me I’m probably in the list of the top ten ugly people you’ll ever see. The mirror tells me to kill myself. Sometimes, it sounds a much better option than to wake up every day feeling dead anyway. This vicious condition has sucked me into a black hole of misery and self-loathing. To try to pull myself out, I’ve quit my job—the job I’ve secretly learned to love.

The thing about acne is that no matter how much makeup you put on to try to cover it up, you still feel like shit. You know people are looking at you and calling you ugly in their minds. You feel more depressed when people tell you they’re sorry your face looks like the surface of Mars. You cringe inwardly when they give you the half-disgusted-half-sorry grimace. And you try to smile and explain and say, “I know” even if it kills you inside. And you wait to be alone so you can cry.

The thing about acne is you know you can’t fall in love. And I like falling in love. And who would fall in love with me looking like this anyway? They say you can’t love if you don’t love yourself first. And I’ve lost that kind of love. I’ve become empty, hollow, and useless. I look in the mirror and feel disgusted at the person looking back. Yes, I think I hate myself. A shame.