(Some names are altered due to confidentiality)

Okay, so I kind of wish I could actually remember what I wanted to talk about, but I think I can remember most of it.  So here it goes.

I hate it when beautiful people say they're ugly when they clearly know that they are lying.  And of course, they only say this because they want attention.  They want to feel important.  They might even do this without even thinking about the outcome, but they still do it.  I don't say this because I hate beautiful people necessarily, because generally I'm a philanthropist at heart, but I just hate attention hoggers.  People who have to be the center of attention, people who can't stand not being in the spotlight, people who always have to be right even when they're wrong, people who can't tell that people don't like them at all, people who can grow up and move on.  Etc etc etc!

Specifically speaking now.  Yesterday was picture day.  Yes, the dreaded picture day.  I had never been nervous before about picture day, but this year was an exception.  I wanted everything to be perfect.  I recently got my bangs cut, right above my eyes.  I hate them,  I don't want them.  I also wanted my cartilage piercing to show, a cute white crystal I had place on the top of my ear for my summer birthday.  I wanted this picture to show who I truly am.  Although originally I wanted to wear my U2 360 t-shirt, but the words wouldn't have shown in the picture like I had wished.  So I wore a an oatmeal sweater over a peach tank top.  It was simple, nothing to cry over.

Long story short, I went into the bathroom and did my duties.  When I walked out of the stall to look at my appearance in the mirror, horror washed over my face.  Across my neck was a dreadful pink strip of irritated skin.  Before this, I had no idea of how long it would actually take for the skin to calm down, but after fifteen minutes of applying cool water, my plans had failed.  Distressed and un-amused, I walked out of the bathroom with a blank face.  I got in line for the picture guy right behind 'Molly Smith', one of the prettiest more beautiful girls in the whole school.  Even though she's only a freshman.  She has everything, the perfect white teeth, beautiful flowing blonde curly hair, blue shining eyes, perfect boobs and body.  Like I said she has everything, including all the popularity you could ever wish for.  When it was Molly's turn for pictures, the photographer kept telling her to move this way and that, he took three beautiful pictures of her.  She immediately fled the room without choosing which picture she wanted.  I stepped in to help the photographer choose a picture.  All of a sudden Molly was next to me, her response to which picture she wanted? "Oh, it doesn't matter, they're all ugly anyways."  Excuse me, but what the fuck.  When it was my turn, I didn't get to show off my earring, my mood was less than I had hoped.  I didn't even feel like smiling.  But I did, he took the picture and then he told me to leave without asking if I had wanted to see the picture, or even if I wanted to take a different pose.

That's where I fucking lost it.  I started walking up the stairs to go back to my work, but halfway up, I knew it would be a bad idea to go back up there.  My eyes were full of tears.  I ran back downstairs and fled for the bathroom, trying not to make a scene.  I cried my eyes out for fifteen minutes.  At that point in my life, that exact event was the first time that I felt ugly.  I wanted to be loved.  Do you know how many emails I get, how many tumblr messages, how many facebook messages?  None.

After I had collected myself and made an attempt at making myself look presentable, I walked down to the dining hall to eat my lunch.  Guess fucking what.  My usual group of friends hadn't saved me a spot.  They hadn't even flagged me down to tell me sorry, we forgot you were coming.  This hadn't happened to me sense two, three years ago.  I thought I would never have to have that feeling again.  Life fucks you over like that sometimes.  I took a seat next to some girls that I could at least stand.  Trying not to make eye contact in fear that they would say something about my tear swollen eyes.

The day continued being horrible, but you all don't need the gory details.  I've babbled on enough already.  But I guess I should come to some conclusion.  My thoughts?  I wish I lived in a world were women could feel pretty, without the intimidation of flawless faces and painted eyes.  I hate it when people say you look beautiful, but you know they are just saying it to be polite.  You can always tell.  Whether it be the way it is said or the person who is saying it.  I hate that.  I think I'm mostly just saying this because I want someone who loves me, unconditionally.  No gimmicks, no ifs, ands or buts.  I want them to love me on the bad days, on the good days, and on the days that you would think would end it all.  I want to go to college, so bad.  Because I want to be somewhere where if I need to run away for a few minutes, or however long it takes, I want to be able to have that freedom.  I don't want to have to run to the bathroom every time I lose it.  I want people to talk to me, I want them to want to talk to me.  My friends are so insensitive.  When I told them this story, they didn't say anything.  They didn't hug me or kiss me or tell me that I'm beautiful no matter what.  In those situations, I question everything.  I think, am I ever going to make it to college?  Will I even get into the college that I dream about?  Am I mean to live past 20, 30, 40 years old?  Will I ever find him?  People tell me I'll make it, but I need more than words to help me through this.  I need people who love me, who care for me, who want to be with me and talk with me through my worst days and moments.