She pauses, looking up and making eye contact with the boy across from her.
He immediately shifts his gaze out the window, staring out at the white flurries drifting from the darkening sky. The grandfather clock in the corner of the room ticks, making note of each second that passes. Her eyes follow the whirlpool in her small mug as she mixes her scalding tea with a silver spoon.
The boy watches her, resting his head on his hands. He looks surprised, baffled at the words she says in her dainty voice.
“It’s that feeling. You know what I mean, right? When your skin tightens around you, and you feel like you’re being suffocated. You can’t breathe,” the girl mumbles. “And when you’re with the person you love, you feel kind of safe. You feel pretty. But no matter what I want to be, or what I feel- pretty, beautiful, attractive- I will always know that I’m disgusting. I'll always know that even though I love them, it does not mean they love me."
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.
