Self diagnosis: acute self sabotage 

Am I pretty? I hope one day when someone looks at me they seem something worth holding on to. She says all of this when she fixes her eyebrows in the mirror. Before walking out of her dorm, she fixes her shirt tucked into her skirt. Sucking in her stomach, a smile lends itself at the sunken in version of herself.

Am I annoying? Her eyes trace his shoulders as he disappears down the hallway. Sometimes she plants herself on the bench where he can see her. Today, I need to say hello, she thinks. One of her classmates sits down in front of her and strikes a conversation. This causes her to miss her chance to say hello into his brown skin.

Am I smart? She thinks back to when she finished her homework a week before it was due. Third grade set the bar too high. Now, she looks at the homework in her student planner, which she doesn’t finish until a few hours before her class starts. Participation points look like fumbling over basic sentences, and not making eye contact with anyone in your class. She’s butchered an analysis and skidded her way through a critique.

Am I good? Outstretched on her bed, she burrows her face into her blankets pretending to not hear her roommate get ready for class. She hopes that her roommate labels her a hard sleeper, and doesn’t stop to think for a moment how the girl is waiting for dead silence once the door shuts.

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