MIRRORS.

Chapter 1

Kairo's P.O.V.

I didn't always think of myself in this way... Ugly, pitiful, useless.... Just nothing. I actually used to have confidence in myself and how I look until I moved to L.A. At first it wasn't bad, then people suddenly started to pick on me.

I don't come from a poor background, in fact I'm quite wealthy, so I always dressed nice. Like I said before, I actually used to think I wasn't kind of pretty, so at first being ugly wasn't something I thought of myself. So day after day I wondered....

"Why dσn't thєy líkє mє?"

"Hσw cαn I вєcσmє thєír fríєndѕ?"

It never occurred to me that they could just say things that weren't true just to get under my skin. In fact, I still don't think they say things that aren't true. Why would they make up such things? Well not necessarily THEY, hєr....ѕhє....

She started this controversy. She's the reason why they pick on me.... Mαkαylα, the root of all of my problems. She originally came up with rumors about me. She's the reason why I get called fat and ugly everyday. What did I ever do to her?

I swear that question lingers in my head every single day, I just can't seem to find the answer. I hate myself. I hate everything about me. Why couldn't I be born pretty? Why can't I be slim like all the other girls? It's not fucking fair! I've done NO wrong! I'm a sweet girl! Why does God choose to punish me!?...........

I drive myself fucking insane asking myself these questions each and every day. Why won't God send me the answer? Or at least an angel to fend for me...

They say, "Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt." I hope they meant that the words can never hurt physically, because they hurt me emotionally.... Spiritually.... They make my fucking soul ache with an excruciating pain that never goes away!!

I just want a friend.... Someone who can help me when I'm in need. Someone who can see the good in me, even when I can't see it my own damn self. But of course, no one wants to be friends with an ugly, fat fuck like me.

They say when you can't find a friend, you can always depend upon yourself. That's a fucking lie because I hate myself. I hate everything about me, down to the last detail. I can't look at myself because I hate what I see with a fiery passion.

I am a prisoner of everyone else's definition and depiction of myself.... I am held captive by what they believe for me to be... I am in melancholy when it come to visions of myself....

If beauty is in the eye of the beholder, then why do I fucking hate M ｉｒｒｏｒｓ......?