I want you to look through my epidermis.

I can’t remember her face.

I can’t remember her hair or her clothes, I know she was short, but how short?

I’m sick, I’ve been getting sicker for weeks, and I called a girl up and asked her to go for some coffee (I don’t even drink coffee) and she said she was too busy, and that I could go to her bible study that happens after New Years.

I wrote a poem about her the other day to myself, for fun because it was bad, and I described what she looks like, and I can’t remember anymore, and it makes me upset because I felt like

Why am I upset? Because I feel ugly.