She's not a beauty. Vibrant haired and round eyed, true, but blemished, with scars and sometimes scabs, with red rashes at her arms and her neck. She hates make-up and only wears the most comfortable clothes. She's fine with that though; she never much cared for her looks. 676Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡOtmD4OtvOv
She has a word written in marker on her left wrist, which reads JAM. Some might not understand, but others do. They're the initials of the name which shattered her heart. Some don't understand why she keeps writing it there; it seemed like a torture to herself, like the bracelet was the year he was gone. She's fine with that though; when she's nervous, she likes to rub and remember he'll come back soon. It was the only tattoo she ever considered to get. 676Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ0sVojbgJ6S
She's often with pain, mostly in her back, sometimes her wrists, other times her knees. She limps sometimes or twists or grimaces and that's all the proof anyone needs. They think she's weak, or faking. It doesn't bother her; she understands completely. 676Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ7SCazIvY6L
That's what others see, what others know. 676Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ1tOgJtd1Vj
What most don't see, and what others don't know, is that she's the most terrified girl you could ever know.
She cringes and cries and beats herself sometimes because of something that happened seven years ago, feeling the embarrassment as fresh as the day it happened. She constantly fears what others will think of her and she withdraws within herself because of old buried memories. She still misses JAM and her heart aches for him more than it should. She considers her loyalty a fault because her best friend of six years abandoned her flat with the words "I guess you and Bree never really cared". Since that day she panics at the sight of rainbow hair. She's been through hell and back and takes pills in hopes of being happy again. She dreams of friends and family dying and rebuilding her sickness, knowing there's nothing she can really do.
Yet through all this, she hates the misery of others even more. She always offers her shoulder, her love, to stranger or foe, adds their misery to her own. Her mind, which she accepts is selfish and needy, tells her it will only stress her more, make her cry and worry. Her heart, however, tells her it's their life of hers.
It's those things that people don't know she cares about the most.
Some will read this and perhaps think she is an attention-seeker or a liar or a fraud or selfish, but that...she's just fine with. She knows this is her confession, and it's good to get it out.
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676Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡrMhCt1OUaJ
676Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡD7kbBZgAdW
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