I hate her.

She stands in front of me now.

She is admired by many yet I see nothing to admire.

Her voice too high and annoying. Every word out of her mouth only irritates me more. She says too much, reveals too much. Who cares? Who needs to know? No one is listening because no one wants to. She never stops talking, her obnoxious voice pestering anyone who looks remotely interested.

Her personality is so fake. Her emotions seem so forced as if nothing she feels is genuine. How could anyone enjoy a conversation with someone so truly heartless?

Is it her beauty that attracts all that admiration?

People call her beautiful and gorgeous, yet I see so many imperfections I can’t imagine where they get that from.

Her skin scarred and uneven, spotted with red acne. Spots and indents like craters on her skin. She has too much fat on her arms, belly, thighs, and face.

Under her eyes are bags like purple crescents. Yet, she puts no effort in trying to cover them up. Lazy. Her irises are dull like dark pits, boring. Her face shape is all wrong. To look at her disgusts me.

Then her hair. It’s never tame, always messy and frizzy. A gross color, an uncomfortable length and always greasy.

Her body repels me. She’s too tall but not like the models. She’s tall in the way that makes her look clumsy and disproportionate. Her legs are skinny but her thighs are too big as are her feet. Maybe it wouldn’t be so terrible if her chest and ass weren’t so flat.

How could people think her attractive? I look at her now and all I feel is disgust. She makes me feel beyond rage. How disappointed everyone must be of her. I want to ask what they really think of this disaster but I know they wouldn’t tell me the truth.

I want to hit her. Over and over. But I can’t do that without breaking the mirror.