The Weight of Roanoke High

The glaring bathroom light reflects off the cold, expensive marble as you stare into the mirror.

Frumpy, greasy, chubby Mildred. Zitty, dorky, ugly Mildred. Weak, slow, stupid Mildred.

The familiar insults echo in your mind, a relentless soundtrack to your life. Another school day stretches ahead, a daunting expanse of hallways filled with jeers and cruelty. You glance at the photos taped around the mirror – images of the popular girls you admire but who would never be your friends. They serve as a painful reminder of everything you are not. For nine years, you've been the outsider, the target. You wish you could see someone else in the mirror, someone you could be proud of, someone like Chelle Martin or Selena Gomez.

But Mirror Mildred stares back, the same girl everyone seems to hate, and you can't understand why. You've never hurt them, yet hurting you seems to be their favorite pastime. Every insult, every mocking glance, every act of cruelty sticks to you like a magnet. You feel less than human, a creature pretending to fit in but failing miserably. You know you need to get ready for school, but the thought of facing another day of torment makes your stomach clench. You look down at the silver scale, its digital numbers glowing accusingly. It’s a symbol of your perceived failures, a constant reminder of the one thing everyone seems to focus on. The day has barely begun, and the weight of it already feels unbearable.