Well. I need to do it, I need to finish this. I'm in my mid-twenties, male. I had a great childhood and a great entry into adulthood. I have always been considered intelligent, exemplary grades, great all round performance. I have a family that I'd gladly give my life up for, my parents love me to bits. I'm a post graduate, studied well, landed a superb job. Until it all collapsed under my feet about a year ago. Let's just say it's an aesthetic thing, something to do with the way I look. My appearance. Been to a number of doctors but all they tell me is that I am a 'perfectly healthy' young man, only 'aesthetically challenged'. Mind numbingly ugly, in other words. Men hit the maturity mark in their mid-20s, so did I. And the result is so unbelieveably ugly that it's destroyed my life. People laugh at me now, colleagues used to whisper behind my back, some would laugh at my face even. Women were disgusted by the sight of me, as if I was some kind of an animal or a leper. Starngers on the street began to stare at me, I used to brush it all off at first but there's a limit to everything. I had to hide my face, loook down and not meet people's gazes and carry on, but you really can't live a life with self respect and dignity doing that 24x7. Some people I knew began to ask me what had 'happened' to me, if I had been afflicted by some strange disease or had a skin condition. I wasn't, and I don't. Apparently this is just the way the bastard god that made me meant me to be. The thing is...I'm okay even with all this. I'm okay with women not wanting to stand anywhere near me or having to stifle laughing out loud when god forbid they need to speak to me for whatever reason. I'm okay with people needing a few seconds to get over the shock of seeing my disgusting self, and continuing to stare or steal a glance thereafter. I'm okay with the snide remarks, with the stares, the hurtful comments. I'm okay with being treated like a fourth rate human being. I've been driven out of shops in certain countries for looking diseased, wretched, or both, even though I am a thoroughly hygienic person. The thing is, and the part that hurts where it hurts most, is that I don't think I deserve this wretched existence. I have been a kind person all my life, I have never sinned, never hurt anyone unnecessarily, whatever I earned I donated a part of to charity, and I love my near and dear ones. I have never held a grudge against anybody, never been unkind to a woman, never stepped on anyone in any area of life. Yet I have been cursed with this disgusting sheath of a body, and I do not think I can carry on for much longer. All I want, is to be able to lie down at night and never wake up. I wish for a terrible accident to snuff out my pathetic life every single morning, and nothing happens. When my life collapsed a year ago, I did try to end it as soon as I could, I stood on the window sill of my apartment, ready with the watch my father had presented to me years ago on my wrist and a note in my pocket (so they'd recognize my body, it was quite high up)...but I just couldn't. Like the fool that I was I believed my 'condition' would get better with time, and it's only got worse since then, much worse. I quit my job, moved back home for a while, and tried to get in touch with a close friend of mine, who unsurprisingly couldn't understand how or why I had changed so horribly since the last time we'd met. I can't look at myself in the mirror, I can't speak to people normally as every one - without exception- cannot but stare at how disgusting I am and look. I'm tired, really tired, and I just don't know why this happened to me of all people. I want a second chance, a fair shot at life. Some people keep telling me that I am 'intelligent' and that this would somehow offset my grotesque countenance...not so. There's a limit to how ugly you can be and get away with it, just as there are limits to how stupid one can be and yet be successful. And my life is a perfect example. Sometimes I feel I was put here to show the rest what the worst specimen of humanity could look like. I know it may seem pretty shallow to want to kill oneself because of ugliness, but if you've been in my shoes you would understand. Naturally I've been a psychiatrist, who informed me I had body dismorphic disorder and put me on a treatment schedule. It didn't work, much to his consternation, probably because I don't suffer from BDD. It's a fact that I'm horrendously ugly, not something that's only in my mind, otherwise people wouldn't behave the way they do with me. I sometimes wish I was a handicap, for if I was one people would understand; my condition on the other hand is neither here nor there. People have a right to be appalled, shocked, and disgusted, but they do not understand that, like a handicapped person, this was beyond my control, nothing I can or could have done would've changed the way I look. (and believe me, I've tried) I'll never blame my parents for not wringing my neck the day I was born, how would they have known I was to turn into a loathsome monster, after all? I won't blame any god because I don't believe in one anymore. I just want peace. Death. So I get a better chance next time around. There is no way in hell I am going to go through with the rest of my pathetic life in this disgusting sheath and excuse of a body.