CHAPTER VII

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I stand before the mirror, my reflection a distorted mockery of the person I long to be. Every flaw, every imperfection, magnified a hundredfold until they consume my very being. I trace the lines of my face with trembling fingers, searching for some semblance of beauty amidst the chaos of my perceived ugliness.

But all I see is a stranger staring back at me the face that stares back at me is not my own, but a twisted reflection of the self-loathing and despair that consumes me from within. I try to avert my gaze, to look away from the horror that lurks within the depths of my own reflection. But the mirror holds me captive, trapping me in a prison of self-hatred and doubt. I see the way my nose curves slightly to the left, the way my eyes are too close together, the way my lips are too thin. 

 I spend hours in front of the mirror, scrutinizing every inch of my face, searching for some elusive perfection that will never come.

But no matter how much I try to change, no matter how many products I use, I am never satisfied. The face that stares back at me remains unchanged, a constant reminder of my own imperfection. And so I am left to wander through life, haunted by the specter of my own reflection. For in a world that values beauty above all else, how can I ever hope to find peace in a face that I despise?

 I am filled with disgust.

I long to hide away from the world, to shield myself from the judgmental stares and whispered criticisms that follow me wherever I go. I try to cover my face with layers of makeup, to mask the flaws that seem to define me, but no amount of powder or paint can conceal the ugliness that lurks beneath the surface. I am haunted by the fear that others will see me as I see myself, as a hideous monster masquerading as a human being.

 I am filled with disgust.

I avoid mirrors and reflective surfaces, afraid of what I might see staring back at me. I am consumed by a sense of worthlessness, convinced that I am unworthy of love or acceptance.

Because I am filled with disgust.


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