You think you're original, with your punkish eye make-up and your preppy clothes. You think you're fresh. You know what? You aren't. You're just another raccoon-eyed surly-faced girl with a penchant for pleated skirts. Just like every - one - else. You think you're compassionate, with your sweet face and your soft voice. You aren't. You're a flaming bitch. And you like seeing others fail. You think you're smart, with your high grade-point average and your big words. If you're so smart, why do you always forget to give your mum the phone messages? You think you're mature, with your goals and your pretentiousness. If you're so mature, why do you still throw temper tantrums at 15? You think you're hot, with your shapely legs and flat tummy. If you're so hot, why does your own mother coax you to go to the gym? You think you're special, with your voice and your voice teachers. You know what? You aren't. All you are is a raccoon-eyed, surly-faced, stupid, immature, ugly, flaming bitch with a pale face and a cold heart. Not-so-sincerely,
yourself
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