Under a Paper Moon

I bit my lip as I hauled myself up through my bedroom window. Mum was probably at work, but there was always the possibility she was still in - I didn't want to risk it. Sure I was supposed to be in school but fuck that shit; as soon as the bell went for first period I was out of there. Fraser couldn't find me, John couldn't find me, Simon definitely couldn't. Him especially, mostly because all he'd do is give me that kicked-puppy expression and be all adorable and Simon-like and I can't deal with that okay I am far too annoyed.

That said though, just because I was annoyed didn't mean I wasn't absolutely positively...is it too dramatic to say 'broken'? Yeah that's too dramatic, I was upset. Very very upset. As proven by the continuous stream of tears pouring from my eyes. I was such a wreck, I am such a disgrace of a teenage guy oh my god.

First thing I did was walk over to my bedroom door and lock it. If my mum was still in then I didn't want her coming in here and finding me sobbing into my pillow. Second thing I did was take off my blazer and undo my tie, throwing them into a pile at the bottom of my bed before unbuttoning my shirt and throwing it to join its friends. Articles of clothing have friends now okay.

Third and last thing I did, was walk over to my full-length mirror and stare at it. I just stared at it. The boy staring back at me didn't feel like me... he was tired looking, his eyes were hollow; he was slouched ever so slightly, as if his shoulders were collapsing in on him. His skin was a sickly green colour and his stomach was pudgy... that wasn't me. That was someone else entirely.

Except it was me.

I took a step towards the mirror, pulling my eyelid down before letting it snap back to my eye again. I had bags. Fucking fantastic. And I had spots. My forehead was covered in them, at least I have a fringe to cover it though. Right? It obviously didn't hide the giant one on my nose though. God, as if my nose wasn't ugly enough though.

Is that why Fraser doesn't like me? Because of my nose? Or is it because of my hair? Or my face? Or my weight? God dammit... can I get him to like me? Probably not. I don't think I can do this to be honest. Maybe...maybe I can try to get him to like me? I could start small, make myself look slightly different... then I could start eating more and gain weight... there's not much more I can do about my face though. He's never going to like me, is he?

It's true though, he's such an asshole and I can't stop thinking about him. It's so infuriating! I hate him. I hate me, it's all my fault, maybe I wouldn't be in such a state if I hadn't let myself get so close to him... I had to interfere in his life and make him unhappy... he hates you! I bet he doesn't even care that he's ripped you to pieces.

GOD I SOUND LIKE BELLA SWAN.

Next thing I knew though, my fist was stinging like mad and covered in blood. I looked down at it, wide eyed before letting my eyes trail back up to the mirror. It was shattered. I punched it. Again. Oh god... I think I might need help.

But first I need hair dye.