Pride and Acceptance ?They loathe me;they shout the worst words(the kind that encircle you like flies; relentless) -burning, scathing words.It doesn't matter. I don't care what anybody else says.I am alone, shunned.I curl up in the wastelandsof something I once recognisedas my most intimate identity,but now feels foreign and outlandish;like myself. They're just words. I don't have to let them get to me.I am proud.I don't need anyone elseto accept me;I accept myself.
memories don't just fadeMy eyes are red and bloodshot, with low-lying eyelids.I widen them; it stings a little.So I squeeze them shut, and open them again- very slowly.I've been sobbing on my pillow; it's smudged with my mascara.Why didn't I take my makeup off before I went to bed? What was the point of that question?I sigh, I know exactly why there's no room in my mindfor thoughts about skincare.I turn back to the mirror on my bedside, and trail my gaze down from my pathetic eyestoward a purple gash running diagonally from my cupids bowto the left side of my cheek.My lip is split, so it hurts to talk now."If I slice your mouth sweetie, you'll remember that you mustn't talk." That's what was said.My body jolts, I turn the mirror away. I don't want to look at my face anymore.I shut my eyes - gingerly, to save myself pain -and I tried my very bestto go to sleep.