Writing Prompts (Over One Hundred)

Writing Prompt 59

I didn't know it was possible to hate something so much.

I stare at my reflection, loathing fills me.

  I glare at my eyes, their lack of mascara.

   I pull at my hair, the frizzy, uneven ends angering me.

    I want to throw up as I look at my nose, my profile.

     Everything about me is so imperfect.

      I feel a lump in my throat as I think about the future I'll never have.

       I'm never going to have a first kiss, a boyfriend, a husband.

         I don't blame them, look at me.

          I angrily slash at the hair of my head, taking the scissors and cutting my frizzy locks.

            I can't take this anymore.

             My meals of the day come up my throat with the taste of bile.

              Feeling calmer I clean up the mess of hair and throw up.

                I clean up and sit up, setting off to a thing with friends.

                  I put my hair in a bun, apply my mascara, and get dressed.

                   They'll never know, and that's the way I like it.

Take it from here, make up a story to go along with this!

Thank for reading!

Payton Janae :).