She didn't like who she was.
Then again, it seems like no one else did either. Because her pale skin was rugged, hollowing around her icy eyes. Her freckles peppered the bridge of her nose, dotting around her cheeks. The girl hated it. She hated everything about herself.
So she changed.
She brought blades to her skin, and painted it beautiful crimson colours. And by doing so, she thought she could be happy. Maybe, just maybe, what was underneath the thinning outer layer would show. But with every layer of makeup, and with every day without any food, the girl found she wouldn’t be content. That she wouldn’t be normal.
She understood that she would never be okay.
When the time came to take off her veil, she removed pieces of who she was underneath. But on the outside, she remained the same girl she had always been.
No matter how desperately she tried to change, she would always be stuck. Stuck with her freckles, and slowly caving in features. Her own skin haunted her.
Aren’t we all meant to be happy?
YOU ARE READING
skin
Teen Fiction【We all wear masks, and the time comes when we cannot remove them without removing some of our own skin.】 -Andre Berthiaume ♦♢♦♢♦♢♦ these are the stories of those who will never be happy with who they are.
