Because of the long-lasting frustration of what I eat, my mother kindly enrolled me in the school canteen for their nasty lunches.Low carb diet went aside when two days in a row I was weak and had a constant headache.
I show my school ID card with a nasty photo of myself and gently smile at the cook. She puts a brownish thing on my plate.
I curl my face and sit at the nearest table.
"You look better." Tells me a curly blonde girl with her hair just above her shoulders.
I clench my fists and the spoon lands on the table.
"Can you finally stop talking about my health?" I sharply stand up from the wooden table with the green tablecloth.
Pissed off I am pushing everyone who is standing in a row to take down their clean plates.
I growl.
My eyes turn on my light blue blouse, where the brownish thing has landed.
My eyes then wander on the asshole that caused this.
I take a deep breath and run with my head up out of the building.
![](https://img.wattpad.com/cover/146314729-288-k640600.jpg)
YOU ARE READING
Autophobia |VOLUME 1| [EN]
Short StoryAUTOPHOBIA: "Fear of oneself does not depend on intelligence, education, economic background or profession." A story about how difficult it is to navigate life if you're a teenager. In a world full of materialism, competition, terror and high schoo...