w r e c k a g e ✓

the wreckage of her self esteem

❝Eh, I definitely wouldn't go out with her. She's just too ugly.❞

▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂

SHE HATED MIRRORS. She hated what she saw. She saw a girl. A girl with hair too frizzy. A girl with a nose too large. A girl with lips too big. A girl with eyes too wide. Eyebrows too thin. Head too oval. Teeth too crooked. Eye bags too deep.

"You look very tired," her teachers would greet, their eyes always zeroing in on her under eye circles.

"Thanks," she'd sarcastically mutter, slipping pass them.

It was in fact that she actually always went to bed at the same time each night. Always getting a minimum of nine hours of sleep. The eye bags were genetically inherited. They made her look old. Even more gross looking. Perhaps almost similar to a zombie. She was never a good looking girl. So she was told. Behind her back and to her face. Boys were the worst towards her. Talking about her as if she wasn't there.

"Maybe she should wear makeup."

She did wear makeup, although, it never really went well on her skin. Always looking like a disaster once she got home and finally studied her face in the mirror. She would stare horrified at her caked face and quickly scrub it all off.

"Maybe she she should try getting prettier."

If that were a possibility then she would have done it a long time ago. She always took it upon herself to do research on plastic surgery. No that wouldn't do, she didn't have the money nor would her parents approve.

"She's so ugly!"

A phrase that was used often and thrown around without any thought being put into it. A phrase that was spat out of people's mouths without them questioning just how much it could affect someone. A phrase that was what always hit home. What made her want to hide in the janitors closet and curl up in a ball.

There was really no way in impressing society. There was no way in meeting someone's high beauty standards. Personality didn't matter, no matter how much people would like to think so. She couldn't fathom it. Maybe she should try harder. What could she do? She grabbed at her cheeks and pulled at them.

She looked at all of the girls in which she passed in the hallway and felt that she could never compare. Would never compare. She looked at them and then looked at herself. They had everything she didn't. They had nice bodies. They had nice clothes. They had nice hair. They had nice teeth. They had nice friends. They had nice boys just etching to win over their hearts. They were pretty.

Pretty.

Pretty.

Pretty.

Something she would never be. She always told herself that in a few years she would look different. She would grow into her defective features. She wouldn't though. She knew it. She just denied it. She knew it because that's what people told her.

You'll never be pretty.

And they were right, because society is always right. Society never lies.