A monologue

I am thinking of turning this into a monologue.
Might be part of a future play.

Over these couple of years, I see myself laughing at things that I found repulsive in the first place. Moralistic as it sounds, I have learnt to embrace the perverse perspective, and many times, I don't actually like it. I laugh, because it shows that I have no fear. Until the day I saw you laugh. That was when I realised I didn't want to be like this anymore. I will say "Ew" at things I am truly grossed out by, and not mask it anymore. I try too hard to be like you, because I admire you. I want you to accept who I am - but 'who I am' was created according to your tastes, your interests and what you find beautiful. I know that to you, I am not beautiful and you wouldn't look twice at me if I continued wearing clothes you found tacky. Revolting. Tasteless. If you heard this, you'd probably be mad, and you'd lose steam in light of the countless of times and ways you've tried to show me your love, your acceptance of who I am, and that I am the one who is doing all the comparing. But recently, I've been observing the ways in which you un-love me. It started when loving me was no longer a necessity, where there was no longer pressure to keep this whole 'love' thing alive. I am not enough for myself, and I will never be enough for you. There are so many girls to feast your eyes on, and there is only one me - nobody looks at me. And I am okay with that.

So honestly, I am not tough. Not in this way, at least.
And I don't have to be.

I don't want to make you laugh anymore.