Thick dark lines, etched into my skin. Deep ridges sunken into pale surfaces. My goosebumps raised in the cold and my lines turned purple, blue, black in the bitter weather. It was PE and they’re there for everyone to see. I have no choice but to wear shorts and fleece. My knees bulge over my legs. My right calf is striped at the back like a blue tiger, ankles covered in criss-cross cuttings, top thigh permanently stained with fat, deep scars that will always dip down when felt and attract the attention of others. I wish my skin was smooth and perfect. I wish I had a nice figure, slender legs, flat stomach, round ass, perky boobs. I always wonder what it’s like to be the girls that are always cute. That have always had nice hair and a symmetrical face and pretty eyes, even before pubescence. I am fifteen and still hideous the way I am. My hair is thin, my fringe takes forever to grow and is messy and wavy and sticks up. I have horrible glasses and a resting bitchface and just look awkward and ugly. I hate everything about myself.