She pinched the bridge of her nose as hard as she could out of desperation to relieve a headache, as if it could somehow help her manifest a worthy outfit. Alex's mind was on clothes for the first time in a while.
If Alex wasn't one thing that would be girly. She didn't know how to style clothes and had never really bothered to do so and that included her knowledge in makeup that was below basic. She never even thought about the need to have a style, a certain brand to represent her. Not until now. She kept staring at her wardrobe, biting a nail.
Alexandra Clarke's wardrobe mainly consisted of a palette of dark colours and plain patterns. While usually her outfit concluded a pair of high waisted jeans and an oversized t-shirt and her ordinary, white tennis shoes or black combat boots, this time she decided to wear a sweater with an elaborate pattern she had had in her closet for ages but never worn, purely because it's colours would attract unwanted attention and paired it with her new black boots her mum had gotten her after 'losing' the others to that lie she had created. After she had gotten back her old clothes from Travis she had rushed to throw them in the nearest bin outside of school for the thought of having to wear them again was a constant reminder of her dangerous choices.
Now, wearing an outfit she would have never chosen for herself in other circumstances filled her with the stale tingling sensation of anxiety, trembling in her body deeming it incapable of moving. She stared at her reflection in the mirror and let out a laugh. The realization hit her, that Ophelia wouldn't be able to see what Alex was wearing even if she wanted to and with that thought, Alex felt stupid for even wanting to try to impress someone. She took the sweater off, chucking it on her bed.
She went back to her favourite black oversized hoodie and dark green coat. She was comfortable there, familiar, much like the lack of her social life, not drawing attention made her feel safe. Alone meant not betrayed and in a crowd meant no eyes staring or mouths whispering more than they already had. If she blended into the shadows, there would be no identity for anyone to recognize, use or make fun of.
Her invasive morning thoughts made her want to crouch in bed and give everything up. The world was too big and the prospect of meeting people seemed too terrifying but, she reminded herself of the promise she had made to her mum and Ophelia's laugh instead. She looked at the sweater in disgust. She picked it up from the bed.
She needed to step out of her comfort zone. No matter how much she hated it, she put the sweater back on and dared a peak back at the mirror. On a second thought it wasn't that bad. She allowed herself to observe it for a moment before changing her mind. The burgundy patterns against the beige woven material made her eyes pop out much like the small threads of teal elaborately moving in and out of the main pattern. The soft material hugged her in a comfortable way complimenting her figure, something anyone else would deem an appropriate reason to pick an item of clothing for.
She run her fingers through her hair with a sigh. The image on the mirror still disheartened her. Dark circles surrounded her wide blue eyes from the lack of a good night's sleep, her lips dry and wounded from constantly biting them, her skin fair and so thin that her veins popping up beneath it were more than visible..
Most of all she was consumed by insecurity about her body; a distraught soul, trapped in a cage she had always hated. When she was not preoccupied with overthinking, she would look in the mirror and contemplate the awful sight of the big deformed lump she perceived her body as. She had spent hours hating her legs that met in the middle rubbing against each other while she walked, unlike the girl's she envied. She despised her stomach, far from being flat, skin curving and moving with every twist and turn, but during one of those rare days, she noticed the good things, the ones hiding underneath everything she cursed at almost every day. She was not a sight for shore eyes but in the other hand she rarely allowed herself to appreciate the colour of her eyes or the way her hair framed her face, falling in straight blonde strands that required no effort to look somewhat put together.
She looked at the old dusty pouch on her vanity and opened it with a sigh. She was on the verge of putting on makeup when she remembered again that Ophelia couldn't see her, left looking at the mirror with a tube of concealer in hand. Just like that, guilt evaded her mind at the fact she was trying to impress someone else. What was she trying to prove?
She paused for a second. Maybe, she should wear makeup. Maybe, she should try and put more effort, try and look nice, buy some new clothes and do her hair. Maybe, she wouldn't feel so bad about herself then and maybe, no matter how heavy her eyelids would get from the fake eyelashes she'd wear, she'd manage to pull a smile for the boys and get some validation that would boost her confidence so that one day she could go out feeling confident. Maybe it was all about effort for someone else until she could feel the urge to put some effort in for her own self.
But she had no energy to spend in any of it. It all seemed too trivial to her, terrifying to think about and offered her no comfort. She laughed at her own thoughts, dropped the concealer back in the pouch, grabbed her chunky green bag from the corner of her room and left.
YOU ARE READING
A wonderful kind of misery
Teen Fiction[COMPLETE] Alexandra had always been alone. But Ophelia hadn't always been in the dark. Alexandra Clarke had been dealing with mental health issues and had been characterised as outcast. Constant moving and a torn apart family made her insecure a...
