“Why do you love me?” she said loathing her soft-squeaky voice while she stared at the reflection that lay before her. Saddening with every inch of fat she noticed that left her feeling husky and plumb in comparative to all the other girls in her class that walked around confidently in their curvy and slender body. She stood there trying to **** back her flabby stomach and stoke her jaws with her thumbs harshly so that the underlying fat would just go away.

She ran her fingers along the dark curls of hers twisting them and despising them. Staring abhorrently at her honey-colored face that wasn’t fair as milk and therefore considered not beautiful. Pimples cracked upon her skin, making her despise every intracity of her body.

Her vision blurred as she would see her reflection, tears streaming down her heated pink cheeks as she stood upon the machine which defined her by a number; just like her grades that would define her mind.

“Why do you love me?” It was the question she would ask every person that would walk into her life and say the three words she was never able to tell herself. She wanted to know the details, when and how for the three words would leave her curious as to why they loved her because she never believed there was something likable about her. She never believed she was noticeable because she was invisible. She wanted to know because she was a soul longing to love herself.