I despise how my face looks so much that it literally makes me hate my life. Out of everything that has happened to me, I find it funny in the saddest of ways that this is what hurts me the most. I don’t like bringing it up or telling others because I feel like I am exposing the most vulnerable part of me to them, and I hate having visible weak spots, but it is something that presses on my mind to no end. It’s the one thing that I feel completely hopeless about, and that makes me feel furious and sad and all sorts of other negative things that I’d rather not be feeling, especially now.

I don’t like wanting to punch my reflection the way that at least one angsty teen protagonist has done in some movie. I don’t like feeling the most dreadful kind of jealousy when people come up to my friends and me in public and tell them how beautiful they are while I idle in the background, feeling like I did in middle school when I tried to keep a straight face as people told me how ugly I was. I pass by windows and try not to cry when I see my face looking back at me.

I feel a dull pain in my stomach when people try to convince me that my feelings are irrational, because as much as I’d like to believe them, I know how wrong they are. It’s something that has bothered me for years. It has only gotten worse and worse as I’ve gotten older and not blossomed into the beautiful young lady that everyone has lead me to believe I’d become. In fact, I didn’t even become cool enough to compensate for my looks. I’m just…here. I hate it, and to a certain extent, I hate me. ♦