I will never be pretty, and I will never even resemble pretty. I will be stuck in this body until the day I die, contorting it like a Rubik's cube that is glued together- with the tension a permanent fact of my being lest it snap free.
Smile. Will my body to do it, and hope that it follows suit. I look in the mirror. It's nothing like I pictured, of course. How many thousands of times have I told my body to contort in some way for some person to see me in some fake light, only for them to see just all of the worst parts of me?
It's 6 in the morning. Today is the first day of my last year of high school. After that, I might just die. Sure, it would be a shame to jump through all these hoops, make it to the last one, and then just give up. But, legally, this is the last mandatory hoop. Then I can say I've made it as far as I'm legally required to. Fulfilled my legal obligations. And yes, it's a crime to kill myself, but that's something I'm not gonna let the law have a stake in negotiating.
I might not, though. Then I can cling on to false hope, continuing like I've always been until I realize how sick the thought of clinging on to false hope makes me. That's what disgusts me most about myself, but it still is who I am. And, like the person I am, I ignore that thought.
It's 6 in the morning, and there's nothing to do but sit on my cold bed in my pajama pants. To wait until my mom's alarm goes off at 7:15, and then for her to get up at 7:25, and then for her to cook breakfast, and then for me to not be able to eat all of it because I'm not hungry, and then for her to yell at me about how slow I'm being and how I'm going to be late. Fuck me for waking up early.
I look back at my mirror. It's across from my bed. I think I put it there to make myself face reality more or something. In theory, it sounded good, like, either accept this or kill yourself, but it didn't ever change anything, and I'm still in limbo. It just makes the limbo a little suckier.
I pull the covers back over me and try to go back to sleep.