A Person Dissatisfied With His Looks
Paul shot a menacing glare at the mirror and seemed ready to spit venom. He clenched his fists as his face turned crimson with anger and frustration. He swept the dandruff off his scalp and stared at the obese youth with a face full of acne in the mirror. Paul looked down at his checkered shirt which had so many stitches which concealed its scars. He sighed. He loathed his gait, his pockmarked face, and the fact that he was ostracised in school due to his size. His gaze transfixed on the mirror, in vain. He detested those who were better than him in academics, in sports, in aesthetics, in everything. Why couldn't he slim down after so many futile attempts? Why couldn't he walk properly instead of hobbling? Why couldn't he excel in a single aspect? His efforts had gone down the drain. Indignant, he let out a thunderous roar, mixed with emotions, and his voice threatened to tear down his house. He wanted to weep, hoped to get out of his miseries and longed to change, but he just couldn't. His lips trembled and the veins on his fists protruded. Hatred eventually proved to be too overwhelming, and he threw a punch at the reflection, determining to knock it down, into smithereens that could never be glued back again. The mirror did shatter into a myriad of minute fragments, but his miseries did not come to an end. There was no change, and sadly, he remained as what he had always been...
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