The Nothing Sandwich

I am so convinced that everyone hates me, even people who go out of their way to tell me they don’t, which only emboldens my belief that they’re doing that so that they don’t seem as obvious with their hatred towards me. Guess when people tell you your whole life they hate you, you just start to believe that everyone will forever.

The worst part is, I can’t even be mad at them for hating me, because I understand. I’m clingy, and ill and vanilla. I’m everything nobody wants. I am the nothing sandwich. A boring, unexciting white bread exterior holding in the most plain meats and cheeses one has ever encountered, topped off with a condiment that nobody else would ever dare to touch. I sit there on the menu, and sometimes someone comes along and orders me either by accident, mistaking me for a sandwich they thought they once had and enjoyed, or out of curiosity, because from a distance, for a moment, I can seem intriguing. But once they’ve taken that first bite, or even just see me arrive on the table, their faces shrivel up in disgust or disappointment, and without even attempting to try me, they just push the plate away from them and order something more appetizing.

I grew up getting hate from every angle; my friends, my own family, other people at school including teachers. Hate has been the single most common feeling directed at me, so much so that not only do I not begrudge others for hating me, but I also hate me because it just seems like the right thing to do. Who wants to openly enjoy The Nothing Sandwich? There’s nothing special or original about it. I’m not physically interesting, I’m just a pale redheaded asthmatic lesbian. I don’t have very intriguing interests, I like tap dance and ballet and literature. Order a better sandwich. A more appealing sandwich. A sandwich with something more than two ingredients. And those who have taken the risk to like The Nothing Sandwich are often belittled by their friends.

“How can you eat that?!”

So they order something better. Something more socially acceptable. Something people order because they enjoy it, not out of pity. I’m not looking for sympathy. I’m simply explaining how my life is, how I am, and how everyone has always seemed to view me. And don’t give me that tired old expression: “Well, nobody will ever love you until you love yourself!” Great, so I’m not deserving of love? That’s bullshit. My girlfriend loves me and I fucking despise myself, so I know for a fact it’s bullshit. I’ve had multiple girlfriends through my life, all while hating myself with a passion, so don’t even try and sell me on that faux positive platitude.

The thing is…despite all of this, every now and then there’s someone who is excited to order The Nothing Sandwich. They actually enjoy it. They looked forward to having it again. These are the people who matter.

It’s not so bad being The Nothing Sandwich.

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