When you told me to get over myself, I felt like I didn't deserve self- help.
If I had the looks of Helen of Sparta, Mother, would you've had me in the psych ward in a heartbeat. I'm sure you would.
But I suppose that I really am ugly.
And I don't deserve the help.
So I scratch my face. Maybe it will distract others from how ugly I am.
That's what I see in the mirror.