Holding On

Prologue

Some people call me Bree. Others call me Elle, or just Bee. Some will just say ‘Hey, you!” Almost no one calls me by my real name. So why should you? It doesn’t matter, no one even knows it; except my parents. And I never see them anyways because between me going to school every day and my parents being workaholics, I practically take care of myself.  

          I’m the kid that seems spoiled just cause she’s rich and everyone seems to think is a stuck up b***h. But in reality, even though I’m rich, you wouldn’t be able to tell that I lived in a quarter million dollar house if you just met me on the streets. I just really hate people. I’m very introverted. I hate conversing with others, but I do it anyways. I always try to put on a happy face but that doesn’t always work.

          I’ve always felt like there’s something wrong with me. I’m always nervous. I have terrible anxiety. I see people laughing, whispering, or something of that sort, and I automatically assume it’s targeted at me.

          I’m not even pretty. Even though I seem vain by looking in reflective surfaces any chance I get and always trying so obviously to ‘fit in’ with the people at my school, I’m not. I actually hate myself. I’m ugly, awkward, and weird. You seriously cannot fathom how much time I spend looking in mirrors just wishing I looked pretty. Wishing I had the perfect hair, or the cute small nose, or even the glowing clear skin.

          When you look at me from a passerby’s point of view, I’m a girl of average height, with that mousy brownish-blonde hair that everyone basically has, slightly underweight, and I look like I’m trying too hard with hair and makeup.

          When I look at myself, I see a girl who eats too much, has dead looking hair, is overweight, short, scrawny, too much acne, and downright ugly. I see every little flaw I have. That’s all I can focus on. I obsess over appearance for hours daily, and then people can just say one rude comment. Then that sends me into a downward spiral from there.

          Do you see why I hate people?

          Let me correct myself. I hate stupid people. I hate ignorant people. I hate people who think they’re all that and they can do whatever they want and push me around just because they have a ‘real’ Gucci bag whereas I get my $10 bag from Target. The funny thing is, I could have a Gucci bag. I could be just as stuck up and full of themselves as they are. I have the money, I have the right attitude.

But I couldn’t because I know that I’m a worthless, sad excuse for a human, and I am probably the most ugliest thing to walk the earth, and so when boys look at me they just say, “what is that?”

          My life seriously feels like s**t.

          Two years ago I was diagnosed with BDD. Also known as Body Dysmorphic Disorder. My parents don’t know I have it, because I had been living with my grandma that summer when they took me to see a doctor. She threatened to tell my parents, but had passed away just before the summer ended.

          So in a way, I got out of that one.

          But in reality, my BDD has gotten worse. I’m afraid it might be turning into Anorexia but there is no way I’m going back to see another doctor. No way.

          I think the sad part of it is that I’m only 14, and I’ve felt like this for years. It’s seriously destroying my life and I hate every minute of it.