I walk through the halls of most peoples
Hell, seing my friends waiting by the library. I wave the
wait. I over hear numeros conversations about how this person Is
cute or this person Is Beautiful. I walk Hannah, Avery and Mace
to there Bus. I hear the same conversations.I start the walk home
to my personal hell called Home.Its to hard to escape the
conversations of vanity.I think about the conversations I
hear,trying to think back to the last time someone called me
beautiful, or even remotly pretty. I can't... Because no ones
ever thought of me as beautiful, not atleast someone who cares
enough to tell me. If My own mother can't look me in the eye
and call me beautiful, then who can??