Burning Out

Chapter 3

MORE LIKE HER

Dedicated to all the girls who wear makeup to feel pretty but in reality, they don't actually need to because they are beautiful no matter what.

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Why can't you just be more like her?

His words rang inside her head, these heavy words weighing down her heart, pounding against her head, as if trying to break through the walls of her skull. She clutched her head tighter trying to ease the pain. But it wasn't working. Nothing was working.

Why can't you just be more like her? Why do you have to make such an issue out of everything? Sometimes it's really difficult for me to deal with you. Why aren't you more like her?

Those words boomed loudly in her head. And she couldn't do anything except hoping that the voices would shut up.

She got up and absentmindedly walked toward the mirror hanging on her wall and looked at herself. That's all she did. She kept looking at herself and put the truth behind his words. His lies.

She rummaged through her drawer and pulled out her foundation and eyeliner. After placing the lipgloss on the table, she poured some cream on her hands and rubbed them gently over her face. She winced a bit when it hit the sore spots beneath her eyes.

She had been applying makeup for years now. She'd never over do it but it made her feel pretty and confident. Putting on a mask, she felt like she could do anything, be anyone. And that thought itself gave her a sense of security. She was good at it. Good at making herself look pretty, hoping she'd feel beautiful too. And she did.

She never had any insecurities before. Not because there might not be a reason to have one but because she felt confident in her body. She may not be the most beautiful girl out there but she knew that she was pretty in her own different way. It never mattered to her what anyone thought on her. Her resolve was strong. But she let his words get to her. She started doubting.

What if she wasn't as strong as she thought?

She had always believed in herself. But as she saw her face turning blotchy after she was done, the eyeliner looking awkward and weird and desperate, she could feel the tears coming on once again. There was stinging in her eyes as she rushed to the washroom.

She washed down the make-up, rubbing till her already delicate skin turned even more sensitive, till her breath laboured and her tears mixed with the water, till she couldn't tell the other one apart.

She never felt this way before, she kept thinking to herself.

But now, suddenly, it's like she can point out a million different faults in her body and they kept piling up over one another, burring her alive under their weight.

And as she cleaned up her face with a towel and looked at herself in the mirror, she realised something.

His words just became another insecurity of hers. Reminding her of how he could do better than her, how she could have been better. How the other one's more beautiful. How even though he says he loves her and her only, he believes in those words. Especially the ones he spoke.

So it must be true, she thought.

But she didn't want to spiral down that dangerous road. She knew that it would take her to dark places, ones she might not escape from. She wasn't going to.

Because despite everything. She was strong.

And even though she was having a hard time believing that right now, she knew somewhere deep down that it was true.

She was strong enough to deal with this. She kept repeating to herself in her mind.

So, she put on a clean shirt, pulled her hair up in a bun and swiped all the cosmetics up, putting them in a box. She only left those behind which were necessary. She knew how expensive they were, but she had to do it. For herself.

She walked downstairs, out the front door, going out behind the house into the garage and placed the box next to the one filled with used toothbrush and empty shampoo bottles.

She took out the phone and called her friend, telling her to come over her place the next day so she could give her all the stuff lying in the box. She smiled when she heard the surprise in her friend's voice who said that she'll probably just throw them away or sell them.

She shrugged, a ghost of a smile still playing on her lips, and said she didn't care what she did to the stuff and ended the phone call.

Just as she entered the house again, her mom asked her what she was doing. And she just smiled in return, a week one but a genuine one at that.

'Just taking out the trash', she said, 'Throwing away some unnecessary stuff.'

She knew it would be difficult. To resist. Some days she would curse herself for what she did. But she knew that it was important. It had to be done.

And when she was done, she breathed in fresh air, and it was exhilarating.

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Thanks for reading!! Hope you liked it:)