Quotes About Insecurity

I get poked and prodded like this every morning. I'm like a piece of meat unearthed from the back of the fridge, suspect until proven otherwise.

Maybe it was me. Maybe I wanted to hate him because I'm in love with his wife, and if that's the case, what kind of man does that make me?

It always seemed like a snake to him, his anxiety. Waiting just out of sight, ready to slither up his spine, hissing its familiar taunt: "You aren't where you should be. Something bad is going to happen because you aren't where you should be.

counted because things in my life had a way of disappearing on me, and I'd learned not to trust what I thought was there. What

Mom always says that doubt is just another way of expressing faith... This is different than doubt. This is something I've never felt before, a total absence of whatever it is that's made me who I am, on the inside, all my life.

Misogyny was born of fear of women.

But who am I if I'm not Janie the bulimic? Bulimia has become so much a part of me that I can't remember what it felt like not to purge. It's been this secret that I have hidden from my parents and my friends (well, except for Nancy) and the rest of the world. It's the way I can let off the pressure of always feeling like I'm not smart enough, I'm not thin enough, not pretty enough, not funny enough, just plain not enough enough.

Once, I did a halfhearted job of sweeping and mopping the kitchen floor, and that's the first place she checked because she knew I'd do a lousy job because "that's the kind of kid you are." As in I'm not a "go-getter who makes her own luck" like she is, so I'm "never going to get anywhere in this world." She knew all that because of two missed Cheerios and a small dust bunny.

It's kind of freaky to send your picture over the Internet to someone you don't really know and then have to sit waiting for their judgement on how you look. Maybe that's why my aunt Penny, who got divorced two years ago, hates online dating so much. Mom's always nagging her to go back on Match.com but Aunt Penny says she'd rather have root canal work - without anesthetic.

It's so, so stupid what we do to ourselves because we're afraid. It's so stupid.

That's not a real answer.' Says who?' Says me. I mean real fear, like of failure, of death, of regret. Like that. Something that keeps you awake nights, questioning your very existence.' Clowns.

It seemed safer to hold it in, where the only one who could judge was me.

There was nothing, nothing to depend on. And why was I surprised?

I was so scared about being discovered, but nobody came. Nobody heard. In my own ears, though, my sobs sounded primal and scary, like something I would have turned off if I'd been able to.

She stroked my hair and told me I was beautiful, but I was old enough by then to know not to believe it anymore.

Okay, I said, what's your biggest fear? As always, he took a second to think about the answer. Clowns, he said. Clowns. Yup. I just looked at him. What? he said, glancing over at me. That is not a real answer, I told him. Says who? Says me. I meant a real fear, like of failure, of death, of regret. Like that. Something that keeps you awake nights, questioning your very existence. He thought for a second. Clowns.

I spent a lot of time looking at that picture. Wondering what I'd think of that girl, if I was someone else, seeing how easily she sits in her boyfriend's lap, laughing, with his arms around her. I would have thought her life was perfect, the way I once thought Cass's was. It was too easy, I was learning, to just assume things.

In midair, dangling lost above the world.

Isabel had hated me on sight, and not because I was fat. Just because she could.

What was it like to be so confident even in your failings that you weren't the least bit bothered when other people pointed them out? I was almost envious.

There's something about dancing that's like being stripped naked; you have to be very self-confident to thrash around in public, deliberately attracting attention. I'd never been that way, even without the weight that once kept me in everyone's eyes. Dancers were the lightest and brightest of butterflies, while girls like me stayed low, bellies scraping along the floor, and watched from there.

He was so close to me in that moment, too close, but I had never pushed a guy away for that. If anything I pulled them nearer, taking them in, as I did now, sure in my belief that knowing me that well would easily be enough to scare them away.

I still felt unformed, like a cake half baked with edges crisp, but still mushy in the middle.

Macy: Seriously. What's it like?' Wes: Being perfect? I wouldn't know. Macy: Not being perfect. Being... gorgeous. Wes: Again, I wouldn't know. You tell me.