"Why do you have so many scars?"

The unfamiliar boy seated next to me at the bus stop bench asked.

I felt ashamed.

I felt hideous.

I stayed silent.

"You're too pretty to hurt yourself."

I prayed for him to go away.

But praying never really worked for me.

If it worked I wouldn't be so fucked up in the head.

And he would still love me.

The boy just stared at me.

All my insecurities gathered into a thought and exploded in my mind.

"Oh my bus is here."

He said with a smile, a crooked smile.

I'm so fucking deranged.