My Secrets, All In One Book

*＊✿❀Bullying Myself❀✿＊*

I didn't really know where to start with this. A prologue—I thought, an explanation that I'm not crazy—I thought. But, still, here I am.

The title of this chapter probably makes you think I should head on over to the Samaritans website, and have a little chat with Pauline about my mentality.

But, I'm okay. Ish.

So. When you look in the mirror, who do you see? What do you see? Do you list every little perfection about you? Or every little flaw?

Me? Depends. Depends on the mood, the time of day. In the morning, I'll wake up with an oily face, and that's not pretty. After I've washed, I know that what I'm seeing is clear, and beautiful, skin, free of makeup.

Secret one: I don't wear makeup. I'm fifteen, (woah, you're closer to knowing who I am) and I don't wear makeup. The only fault with my skin is the blackheads on my nose, and maybe the fact that I'm pale as your white screen. But that's a chapter for another day.

Next, I'll brush my teeth and admire how white they look despite the tea I drink. I'll change. I'll brush my hair. Maybe admire how the hair frames my face.

Secret two: I hate my hair.

Describing my hair would give me away. All you need to know is that light hair give light eyebrows. Which gives light skin. Which automatically means you are shoved out of society's little bubble. Usually, I'd throw shade. "So? I didn't want to be here anyway."

But, deep down, I did.

I want to look like her. And her. And that girl. And her. And you. Just not me.

Bullying. The most cruel thing you could throw onto an innocent child. No matter your age. Done by a person, onto another person, right? Wrong. Insulting yourself can be bullying. Did that boy deserve all those insults about his "fat face". No. So did you deserve all those insults you threw at yourself? (Please, for heavens sake, don't answer yes)

Yet, we all do it. We bully ourselves. I bully myself. I look in the mirror, and I'll admit, puberty did me good, and my figure is envy-worthy, yet I don't fit into society. Why? Because all you hoes decided "eyebrows on fleek" and "your tan!" would be a common compliment from 2013 onwards. Being born in 2001, that didn't give me long to live before I started to hate my appearance.

If you fit into society, and you're reading this, I envy you. You are the she, if you're female, that I want to be. Because sometimes I cry. Sometimes I realise that, no matter how ugly one thinks they are, they aren't me.

And then I stop crying.

Life goes on.

People keep breathing.

No one noticed that I cried.

So I wash my face.

I change.

I brush my hair.

And I keep living my damn life.

For some reason.

☆Never insult someone. Would you like to hear that from them? You have no idea how far your insult can be taken. It's because of the taunts I was given that I realised I just didn't fit in.☆

Yeah, thanks to those pricks.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧
SPREAD POSITIVITY, YOU NEVER KNOW WHO'S HURTING
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

–The Girl Who Won't Be Named