Don’t bother, please.
I am not pretty like the other girls. I wish I could say that my intelligence compensates enough for my lack of aesthetic appeal. But I would be lying, and we wouldn’t want that.
Maybe that’s why I’m so drawn towards the beautiful, the pleasurable, the ethereal, the elegant. Maybe it’s because I’m compensating for the things I lack.
Maybe that’s why I submit myself to these physical tortures. Maybe that’s why I starve myself — eating only a small bowl of oatmeal, twice a day. Maybe that’s why I’m so hellbent on proving that though I’m not pretty, though I’m not that smart, hell I’m skinny.
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