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.