The Curse of Perfection

A Story by

Based lightly on Glee's I Feel Pretty/Unpretty. But not really. I just thought of it.

Her breathing filled the icy air as the snow fell down upon her magnificent long, blond hair. Many had called her the most beautiful girl they had ever seen. But she never saw that in herself; and she never would. Because self-acceptance comes from inside.

Her mind was filled with fears, doubts, and the hope that she might accidentally meet her end. She was too afraid to do it herself. And she was to self-sacrificing to even dare to think about the consequences. She knew that it just wasn't in her card no matter how she wished to they contrary.

But she wanted to. And that want was all it took for the scars to begin to show. Her body now covered from wrist to hip with cuts varying in both size and depth. Her beautiful ivory skin now tainted with the pain that she felt bubbling inside. Each scar told a story, of who she was, what she had come through, and what she had survived. And yes, she was a survivor.

She was called popular by the many and hated by the few. But secretly she didn't even know what the word means. To be popular should mean that she didn't feel so alone. She had once been that sad kid in the back of the room before. And she had changed it, she had changed herself. Being popular was once her favorite dream. But now it was the darkness nightmare she surrendered to every time she held that knife, or took another drink, or felt her heartbeat increase from something she had taken. She was fake as she could be.

Her blond hair was dyed with a ritual of care each month. For no matter how hard she tried she could never erase the roots of the light brown hair that was. A reminder of the past that she had so carefully both hid and put behind her. Her face was covered in makeup of the best kind, even when others wouldn't think that it was there. She carried foundation with her everywhere to hide the blemished skin and wounds that laced along her body. She had acne medication that could cure a toad, and it was just another addiction of many to her. Her nails were as fake as the rest of her with a pretty french style that everyone loved and wanted. Her body was made by the clothes that she wore. Always perfect, neat, and clean. Her money was spent on designer things that she really cared nothing about. Her body was one of a goddess, with curves where they should be. A dancer she was but she'd never forget what made her turn to such dangerous ways to be. The weight may have come off, but the loneliness never fades she soon found out.

Her emotions were constantly scattered about and her head always filled with a buzz. But she was the queen, or so it did seem. So she always walked out with a smile. She was used and abused by the boys who just wanted to put her as one of their game. She was silently hurting with silent screams in broken hallways that constantly filled the air surrounding her. A skipped meal here, a skipped meal there. She found lunch time was her time for books and dreams.

Her one and only escape, and with no deadly mistake that she could make for something to fall. The library was the best place of all. Her escape on any random day. She found a sanction of pleasure and a kiss of good faith when she wandered though the empty rows of books that she had learned to love for the freedom they unleashed. She would pick up a book and move down to the back, which was the most silent area of all.

She was finally able to clear her head, and then her escape into the fantasies began. Through the adventures of the many she travelled. With a hope and a wish for one of her own in her heart. And through her escape of the books, she finally found peace. But then the bell would soon ring and her book would be back on that very same shelf with no evidence the silent sufferer of perfection had been there. For she could never dwell in that promised land of magic and wonder. And her reality of the real life of the perfect came back to haunt her.