Not today, she thinks.
She is tired. The spider web of veins is visible under her translucent skin. Her lips carry the most color – a light and soft rose pink. She is beautiful but the radiance is the result of absolute exhaustion and lack of food.
Her hair hangs in loose waves, nothing like the bouncy curls she usually wears to school. Her room is a disarray – the aftermath of a midnight panic attack. The study table, usually neat and orderly has books and pens scattered. Petals from the bouquet she bought a couple days ago on the way home join the chaos on the table.
It is a mess but a beautiful one. The type of mess that people would try to replicate for their Instagram page, she thinks.
Slowly, she stands and crosses her room to the mirror. She lifts her shirt. Beautiful, she thinks. Beautiful, the way her skin hugs her pelvis, the slight curve of her bottom under her pajama shorts, the way her collar bone stands out like the models in the magazines.
She turns in a slow circle to take in her room. After last night, it is no longer neat. Sweaters are strewn across the floor, the lamp a little slightly more to the left than she would be comfortable with. She sees the way her room usually is. The pile of books
She sees the way her room usually is in her mind’s eye. The pile of books on the shelf arranged from tallest to the shortest. The bed made as if CInderella was her housekeeper, the curtains tucked nicely into their little nooks to allow the afternoon sun to warm her sheets.
But not today. Today she is tired, she’s had enough. She looks at herself again in the mirror. Skin is drawn a little tighter over her cheekbones as a faint smile takes over her lips.
Her life is a mess, but at least, she is beautiful.