I stood staring at myself in the mirror, critically looking over every inch of my body.
I have no curves. My face is disgusting. I look like a child.
I sighed and turned away from the mirror then stared at the the outfit I had spent an hour picking out the previous night. I put it on, avoiding looking at my reflection, hoping that maybe I would look magical once I put it on and everything would be okay.
I didn't. There was always something that I could point out that I didn't like, down to hating the way I thought I looked perfect. Because I wasn't, and no matter how hard I tried to appear perfect, I wasn't.
I didn't see myself as beautiful. And that was when my confidence started to crumble. The tears started to fill my eyes.
Yanking out my shirt I threw on my sweater and ignored the mirror. I ignored the pressure of tears building behind my eyes and walked outside, again fingering the thread.
Why can't I just be beautiful?