feels

Help

6:31 PM



I am standing still in front of my tall mirror. I stare at my reflection from the tip of my head to the tip of my feet.

And then I start crying.

It's not beautiful, though, both of my cry and what I see in front of me. I cry like a mix of a horse and a child whining. It sounds so horrible, but I can't help it. I try so hard, forcing my mouth to keep silent but my throat keeps betraying me. I end up biting my tongue as hard as I can so that no voice is out of my lips. My blood quickly rush through the wound.

And my eyes, my eyes, are no longer can hold my tears. It's like something has wrecked the sluice in my eyes; the tears keep flowing and running down my cheeks. I blink and blink and blink, hoping it can stop the flood, but nothing's changed. I can't stop, I can't, but I really want to.

I can barely breath. My nose filled by snot and mucus, it slowly but surely tortures me. My throat tightened, leaving me gasping, struggling for oxygen. It feels like a giant hand squeeze up my stomach that I almost throw up. I feel so scared, panic, insecure that I sweat so much. I'm afraid my heart is about to explode.

Is it true?
Is it true that pain is beauty?
Is it true?
Is it true that no one cares?

My hair, my face, my body,
what did they do?
Did they do something wrong?

Should I gather all money to afford every single trend?
Should I starve myself for the sake of beauty?
Should I strain myself doing some extreme exercises?
Should I get some surgeries to "fix my face"?

Should I? Should I?
No. I know the answer is no.

Then why do I feel so empty? In this crowded place, why do I feel so distant? Why do I feel so anxious, trying to mingle with these people? Why do I keep worrying about how they see me? Why am I afraid of "being not pretty enough"? Why am I afraid of getting left behind?

Too many why.

I'm sick.
I'm scared.

I take a lipstick on the dresser. It is the lipstick that I bought with all of my allowance. I take it and come back in front of the mirror.
Help, I write.

Then I punch it and punch it, over and over again, until it shatters all around me.
Help, I cry.