I've always hated home. I was always the least favorite, the unloved one. My beautiful family made me sick. My two sisters and mother had always been undeniably beautiful. I, on the other hand, was undeniably not. The only thing I hated more than being home was being outside. Out in the world, I was even more hated. People would stare and try not to laugh as they walked past me, school was worse, I was bullied big time. It had almost driven me to suicide several times. The only reason I stayed alive, and sane, was for my love of reading. And it was that love of reading where I found I didn't have to be ugly at all.
