She was shaped like an uppercase Y. With her pointy, ugly chin tied to her stick-thin body, making her look down on everyone as she grows taller and taller. At times, she would disconnect her chin and look up instead, showing her dark horizontal lined neck during the process. One could see each and every grotty crevice if they looked close enough. I’ve noticed her disgusting details on her neck, which I wished I would unsee, over time, past those days I wish she would struggle for air. Her stupid heart shaped wing tattoo her parents allowed her to get pisses me off — how come she deserves to recieve whatever she wants? After just asking for something once? Her mouth that does the asking is so asymetrical that you want to perform surgery on her face. Her face— her extremely slappable face with her rat sized visages. I could shove a lighter in her hairy nostrils and watch as the fire melts her plastic-like features. I could— I _would _expose what she kept hidden away from everyone for so long.

In Kindergarden I ripped her dry yet greasy thin hair, which she always kept in a golf ball sized bun. Of course I got in trouble. No one even cared to ask if she had done something to bother me. If someone did ask though— I’d respond saying she stole the life I was supposed to have. It is as if I had done something horrible in my past life. As a result, my life now is cursed. Everything I ever wished for was granted to _her_. It was supposed to be me. I was supposed to be her. Everything she has would look better on me. It all looks ugly on her because it was **meant** for _me_. Not her.