This girl is two-faced. No, three. No, it’s infinite. Her perspective of me can change like that.

Some days, I do well. I get an A, that cute girl gives me a Thin Mint, my sister laughs at my jokes, my friend told me she loves me when I was sad, and my parents are proud of me.

When I do well, she, firstly, celebrates. Then, she puts it in her head to remind me next time I fail that I can do better.

If I I fail, she pulls out my successes and makes me feel like I let her down, and that I truly am stupid.

She tells me everything I have planned for me will, ultimately, fail. I won’t get that grade or that scholarship, I will never make section leader, never get in shape, never never never.

She tells me I am fat. Ugly. Gross. She whispers in my ear that I’m too big to run, too big to be sexy, too big to be cute, too big, too fat, too out of shape.

Then she tells me to eat less. Skip a day. It’s for the best.

Then she argues with herself because it’s dangerous.

Yes, no, yes, no, and on and on and on.

She tells me that I should be guilty. Of my body. Of my sexuality. Of my grades. Of my looks. My life. My everything.

She tells me many more things, and many are very personal. Your friends hate you. Your sister hates you and replaced you. Your parents despise your existence. Your dead grandpa would be disgusted with you. Your sexuality is invalid. No one will ever love you, you disgusting trash.

And on.

And on.

And on.

This girl...

She is me.