A Self-love Story

Chapter 3

Not all of us scream for help. Some of us disappear very quietly and before you notice it, we're gone.

Dear Diary,

Today was my first day of work. What about the job interview, you ask? They said that they'd accept anyone because they were utterly desperate. And of course, I was greatly flattered. That did wonders to my already nonexistent ego. Sorry (not sorry) about the sarcasm.

I had dressed in the uniform given to me, black pants, a light blue shirt and a red scarf. I kind of felt like a schoolgirl again, repeatedly checking my appearance in the mirror as though it were my first day of school and I was worried what everyone else would think of me. But the comparison isn't accurate because my school days were infinitely better, happier.

Stop! Don't take that dark trip down memory lane. Just don't feel, I had mentally shouted at myself. And then I felt like I might be losing my mind because I was talking to myself too many times in my head. Maybe I'd be admitted to the mental hospital soon. Although I had always thought that I'd be in the mental hospital for other reasons. You know, anxiety, depression or maybe even extreme loneliness. All those were also equally probable situations, to be fair.

Anyway, do normal people talk so much to themselves in their heads, enough that they have another voice they converse with? I don't know, and I guess I'll never know. All forms of normalcy from my life have been painfully extracted, leaving scars that'll never heal, both physical and emotional, so who cares if there's one more thing to make me abnormal?

I shrugged off all my useless thoughts and tried to conceal most of my scars with makeup. Safe to say, I didn't succeed.

I earned stares and gawks and gasps as soon as I entered the gallery. Most people stared shamelessly while a few had the decency to only look at me through the corners of their eyes. I just lifted my chin up and walked confidently up to my boss. Although I was feeling the exact opposite on the inside. I felt like cowering in a corner and hiding my face in my arms, but at the same time, I also felt like shouting at the people staring at me. Probably something along the lines off, I know I'm gorgeous, but you people came here to look at the paintings, not gawk at me, you idiots! But a dark thought wriggled its way into my mind at the same time. I know I'm not gorgeous and I know you know it too.

What did I do? Well, I just kept my face impassive and stood in front of my boss ignoring all the stares directed at me. You'd think these art fanatics would have more interest in the damn paintings!

He was a tall man, my boss, taller than me by at least 5 inches. He had a jawline that could cut glass and probably my head if I messed up. He had piercing dark brown eyes and perfectly gelled back black hair. Yeah, his look screamed "no-nonsense". Oh, and obviously I wasn't intimidated at all. Who am I kidding? I was totally scared. I stood in front of him waiting for him to acknowledge me. When he didn't, I mustered up the courage to say, "Good morning."