And I remembered there was this time. I was standing with this other friend. Who was older than me. And we were sipping on this drink waiting for I-forgot-who. And then I wanted very much to go to the washroom. And guess what? I didn't even dared to tell him that I wanted to go. I just stood there. For quite a very long time. Thinking of what I am going to do. Until I plucked up my courage. And told him I need to go relieve myself. And I put my drink down on the floor and ran to the washroom. That was when I was little. Very little.

Then there was this other time. I was having art lesson. And so coincidently, I was the only one present, and earlier in the morning, I fell down from the bed and hit my chin. So my chin was bleeding. Mom prepared a packet of tissue paper in front of me. So I can wipe the blood off anytime I want. Then there was this point of time. When I really really need to wipe the blood off. Just to make sure it doesn't drip. But I didn't. And you know why? Because I didn't dared to do it in front of the teacher. It sounds ridiculous, thinking of it right now. But the only time I dared to pick up the tissue was when the teacher was away, or either his back was facing me.

And that was when I was little. Very little.

Of course, no one knew. Because I was so shy to even talk about it. And I think I'm still a little like that now, that I'm almost fifteen.

Because I am the most self-conscious person I've ever seen in my life. I afraid of people staring at me. I will go, is there something in my nose? Is my skirt inside-out? Why are these people looking at me? I'm tired of me being like this. My classmate used to tell me, life's too short to care about whether there's a boogie in your nose. She told me to be more confident. Stop caring about what other people think of you.

Yes, I don't care about what other people think of me. I just want them to see like, look, my shirt is neat so fuck off. I want to look good physically. They can say I'm a whore, I'm a fucking slut. No, I don't care. I just want to look good. Everyone wants to look good. Don't they?

It's got something to do with pressure.

And it's killing me.