My eyes are bright, and

Watching Juno got me thinking. You're having this baby, and it's beautiful, an amazing, and exciting, and a miracle, and you have all these expectations. And then it's born and it's wonderful. And then it grows up and it's nothing like what you expected, and all of a sudden it's 19 years later and how could you not be disappointed?
Some more things to know about me.
-I have anxiety attacks. Sometimes it's hard to move. Sometimes it's hard to breathe. Sometimes I wonder if it's even worth it. Deep down, I know it is, but that doesn't stop the wondering.
-I use modeling to cope with body dysmorphic disorder, not because I think it's a viable career. I have a hard time with self-efficacy, but god I just want to make the world a better place.
-Lora Zane talked to us about the importance of authenticity. The only time I feel authentic is when I'm acting. The rest of the time, I feel fake. I used to think it would be so much easier if people just saw me as a piece of ass, that I would definitely be more well liked. But then, I pick up a script or get in front of a camera, and I think, "Could a piece of ass do this?"
I wish I could just feel good about myself, more often than once a day or so. I try so hard to make things good for other people. I want you to be happy. I want you to be successful. I want you to be beautiful, and vivacious, and loved. I want to be a good friend to you. I want to save your life.
I want to save the world.
But I can't even save myself. I will never be enough.
Why is that? I'm just going to keep pushing until I fall apart. It's what I do. I dealt with stress by being all smiles in the daytime, and grinding my teeth so hard at night that they cracked. I burned myself baking food for people that didn't need it, or even want it. I put myself in and unsafe situation and managed to look both gullible and like an asshole in the same space of time.
I scored in the 98th percentile on the SAT. I knew even then that it didn't matter. My parents are proud that I made dean's list. Why can't they be proud that I make art?