Ugly

I feel disheveled sitting on this train. A skinny teenage girl sits beside me, prancing her violet-red manicure upon her phone, flipping through her play list of pop music. She wears shiny black ballet flats around her slender bony feet, an outfit designed for a storefront window, large designer sunglasses and the hair of a Disney princess.

I am sitting with my journal in my lap. My legs are crossed and covered in faded denim. I am biting my dry peeling cuticles; tugging down the sleeves of my small blue corduroy jacket; and flipping my frizzy wisps back, behind my naked ears. I am tapping my blue Converse sneakers, which are torn and exposing my cotton sock covered bunions. Despite these details, I feel self-assured. The music in my ears makes me happy. The caffeine in my blood starts me writing and shows me that my usual lack of confidence is ugly.