I run as fast as I can until I reach the bathrooms. Thankfully there is no one inside. I open a stall door and lock it. I sink down to the floor and bury myself in my arms. Why did Drew have to say that?

I'm not skinny, I'm not pretty in any way, I'm not... well I'm not anything. I pull out my phone again and look at the last post I had up. The picture is of me and Zack practically eating each other's faces off in my pool. My hands are tangled in his hair and his hands are roaming my back.

It makes my stomach, knowing he was touching me like that. Feeling my body and my fat. Finally the unease in my stomach is too much to bear and I empty the contents of my stomach into the toilet. Well, little content at that.

I click on the image again and scroll through the comments.

She's such a whore.

If she does that in public, imagine what she does behind closed doors.

There are more but I can't bear to read any more as I let out a strangled sob and cry all over again into my hands.

I just can't be what people want. I just can't be perfect.

But then I remember what Yasmine said when I was crying in the bathroom the other day. You're going to get up and march out of here with your head up because you are strong and people's opinion doesn't matter.

I have to be strong, so I pick myself up from the floor and leave the stall. At the mirror I fix my makeup. I'll never be good enough but I at least needed to pretend I'm strong.

Outside the bathroom I don't see Drew anywhere in sight. I go over and sit on a bench hoping he will find me if I stay in one spot.

Not that I actually want him to find me or talk to him but he's me ride home. I knew we should have taken my car. Then I could just ditch him.

I look around at the people around me and spot a teenage couple hand in hand. The guy goes over and places a kiss on the girl's cheek and she goes off in a fit of giggles.

I wonder what it would be like to have a boyfriend that loves you for you and not your fame. To be truly happy.

Happy.

I take out my phone and take a sly candid picture of the couple. They are the perfect essence of happiness for our project.

"Just so you know taking pictures of strangers is weird." I look over to my left to see Drew coming over to sit on the bench beside me. The smirk on his face slides away, replaced with sadness- guilt. "Look I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend-"

I silence him with a wave of my hand. "It's fine. I would like you to please bring me home." I say monotony. My real emotions guarded.

"Okay but I want you to know I'm sor-"

"It's fine!" My voice cracks. I look up at the sky willing my tears to go away. "Can we... Can we leave? Please?" I look over at him and plead with my eyes. He finally gets it and nods as he stands up.

We walk back to his truck in silence. The drive home is silent as well. When he parks outside my house I open the door.

"Goodluck at your game." I say and slam his door closed.

I open up our front door and lean against the inside and let out a long breath.

Honestly, fuck my life.

"Ashley is that you?" I open my eyes as Nina comes from around the corner. "How did your project go?"

"Fine." Not really in the mood to elaborate.

"Well I made sandwiches-"

"I had a burger already." I lie.

"That actually sounds really good. Anyways, do you want to go shopping or-"

"It's fine, Nina. I'm just going to go get a workout it." I brush past her and go up to my room. I don't like being dismissive to Nina but sometimes that's all the energy I have for.

In my room I change into spandex and a tank top and head back down to the workout room.

I'm so sick of being called a whore and fat and lied to when called skinny. I'm sick of being called Barbie and people only interested in me for my dad. I'm sick of not being good enough. Not being perfect.

By the time I reach the workout room I'm practically shaking with anger. Time for an intense workout I guess.

□

I step out of the shower and dry myself off. Whenever I push my body in a workout, I always feel better. Once I slip on a simple dress I dig under my bed and retrieve my guitar case.

When I was around eight, my dad bought me my first guitar and taught me how to play. He taught me where to put my fingers and how to smoothly transition between notes.

During that time we would play all the time, but now I'm lucky if we play once a year.

I still love to play though. I mainly just play covers because I can never seem to write my own songs, but I always add my own little twist to it.

I wouldn't consider myself a good singer but my dad and Nina often believe differently. They tell me I should sing publicly, but no way am I giving the media something else to criticize me on.

That's why I was so scared when Drew heard me singing. I can't bear the thought of someone judging me on something so personal.

I finish tuning the guitar and position it in my lap. Mindlessly strumming the strings until I come up with a song to sing, and then I got one.

"Avalanche is sullen and too thin.

She starves herself to rid herself of sin. And the kick is so divine when she sees bones beneath her skin."

I feel every note I sing. I feel the hurt and the pain. I can feel what's inside the person that suffers, what's the baggage of scars and pain it carries. I feel the wanting to be understood.

"While she hides the scars she's making underneath her pretty clothes, she sings: Hey baby can you bleed like me? C'mon baby can you bleed like me?" By the middle of the song my fingers are numb and my body is shaking."

While I play I forget about the media, about being judged, about Drew and Zack and my body.

I wipe away a stray tear, but I continue to play. Because although the song brings me pain, nothing but singing makes me the most happy.