she absolutely hated this life, the feeling of being stuck in her own skin, not being able to breathe. After showers, she'd stare at herself in the mirror constantly picking at her skin, holding in her stomach like how she would want it to be. Comparison is the thief of happiness, she would say. the only thing that was completely true in her life. she had always seemed so happy, with her friends she would laugh and everything would seem like it was okay. Yet deep down inside, she knew that she would go home, and begin to cry again. thousands of thoughts running through her head; how her friends are able to fit in any kind of clothing and look amazing. How even men look better in the clothing she would wear. About the fact that when she would sit down with jeans, her gut would stick out; causing her mood to change from flowers, to being dead. Hair was on her body from head to toe that she was too lazy to shave, or she didn't feel the need to. She would throw tantrums, ripping the blonde locks out of their sockets, and crying her eyes out until her surroundings absolutely sickened her. she was sick of romance, knowing a man wouldn't even walk near her; her arms as round as a man's. she'd figured out the reason only women like her long ago. it was pathetic, quite sad actually.
"I'm fat." she says with a joke face, she knew she really wasn't joking.
"No you're not! You're pretty." that wasn't what she said. The girl said she was fat, not ugly you idiot! Words never helped, they brushed off her feelings like a fly on skin, but when her friends broke down sad or mad, she would run to their side to comfort them; even though they wouldn't do the same for her. Then again, it's not like anyone would care. Just smile and wave, and you'll be okay.
