I look down at the water and see my face. My face; that ugly thing I am forced to look at every day; this terrible, disfigured, hideous thing that my family is ashamed of, that I am ashamed of. As I look at it, I see it change, reshape itself, becoming uglier than ever, marred by anger. Anger at its ugliness, at its being shoved back at me no matter where I go. I cannot escape it.

This is my face. This is the thing – the awful, inescapable, wretched thing – that sparks all the hate I have ever received in my life. This is why I am alone, why no one ever looks twice at me, why I have been forced to witness every day what I can never have. Because this won't go away, this face. My face. No matter how much – how hard or how fast - I run, it is always with me, telling others what to think of me, screaming to them "THIS IS THE FACE OF A MAN WHO ISN'T WORTH SHIT!!!" because that's the truth. I'm worthless, and everyone can see it. I've never been able to prove myself to anyone. I'm never given the chance. Because everyone takes one look at me and decides that they'd be better off ignoring me. And they're probably right. But knowing that I'm a worthless piece of crap and that I deserve to be left alone doesn't make my life any easier. If anything, it makes it worse. Because no life is a good life - even if you have friends and family and everything you could ever ask for - if you can't live with yourself. And that's where I am. Being forced to live with myself, with my terrible face that even I am afraid of. If it were up to me, I would end my misery. But I have a duty to this world. I was put here for a reason, and I know my own destiny. So I am forcing myself to wait, to fulfill the purpose for which I was thrown into this abysmal world in this difficult time, forced to live through this horrible life with my repulsive face. Maybe when I'm finished, when I've done what I was put here to do, everything will get better. Maybe not. But there is a small possibility. And that's the only reason I'm waiting.

I rise, still unable to draw my eyes away from the image of my face. Why? Because however ugly it is, it still belongs to me. So instead of allowing it to yell at people, to scare them away, I will fight it. But as I turn, my eyes still fixed on my reflection, I know that I'll never be able to triumph over the biggest obstacle that has ever been thrown at me. My face. Wild eyed, I find the biggest rock I can and throw it, watching with some small satisfaction as it plunges into the pond, sending ripples across the surface that shatter the likeness of my revolting face. I look away before the surface has time to regain its reflective quality and confirm me once more what a monster I am. I close my eyes and take a deep breath, but the anger never leaves. I am angry. I am ugly. I am alone. I am only as good as my face.