The target

I’m Jinny, the ugliest girl you could probably meet. I live in a simple little neighbourhood where everyone has gotten plastic surgery.

During my 16 years of survival I have met countless men and women change their face.Overtime you get so used to a new face with a recognisable personality that it feels normal, right, and like this should be the way of life. Of course 60 years ago all this wasn’t so obvious.

60 years ago, you would meet pretty faced girls that had nothing done, but now, 2070, that has changed. The definition of success is beauty.

‘Today’s news, the famous model Anastasia Brulette, has gone from pretty to absolutely burned. On her normal lovely day as the famous model on her way to a live show, was not to stay forever.

When she got into a car accident and a fire began to burn from her agents cigarette. Her face was completely ruined and the mark for how fast a persons career can fall has been surpassed. Here is a clip from a recording of the accident.’

Fire billowed from a mountain of scrap metal and a heap of glass, ‘Nooooo, nooooo, you can’t do this to me!!! MY FACE! MY BEAUTIFUL FACE!’ A deafening scream from inside, and a howl like a wolves right before death.

TV has never been more frightening. It was horrible the sound of a screeching pig that had no talent never deserved this. I felt chills run down my spine and crawl deep within me.

I turned the TV off and made sure to put on some music to calm my nerves. Was it always this way? Do people rely on beauty so much that they’d rather die without it? Has life really become so pathetic?

As a child I had never felt the need for any makeup nor surgery. Honestly I thought I was pretty, my parents always suggested so. Kids from my schools would bully me, although I was thin-skinned I was always reminded by mother that she was always there for me.

And that’s how I slowly learnt to not give the fs and live life carefree, of course not everything’s so simple, i had to learn that stuff but I’ve become better.

Walking to school, with my uptight, uncomfortable uniform on and my brown shoulder bag on my shoulder I trotted up the path. Since I’m not so pretty I usually get odd stares when I walk, and people do whisper about me to each other but I learnt to drown them out with headphones.

Is beauty really a survival hack? Why is everyone so obsessed, even teachers seem to be on a roll about being pretty and what not. What do people really see in the person they love? Beauty, or character? Is having a smexy body that much of a necessity?

Granola psychology college, probably the weirdest sounding name possible. The school is normal with real school gates and real bricks and real stationery (they’re not made out of granola like others like to jokeingly say).

And honestly the school isn’t half bad, I’ve learnt a lot about being a psychologist, but the teachers really do kill you inside of your not pretty. Not kidding! My grade are purposely changed because of how I look, and can I say, f**k them?!?!?

I am probably smarter than all their a**es combined and’ll probably end up surpassing all their standards of me, ever. The truth is, though, it’s difficult to find a proper job that doesn’t take beauty into consideration, your flippin’ report doesn’t matter, as long as you wear the sl**ty clothes they give you and you look hot, your in.

Because finding a job previously was always a challenge, I’ve had to wear makeup and contour my face into the nicest looking thing, and it seriously takes FOREVER. But I got to do it otherwise I’ll be homeless before I know it.

In my classroom you’ll find probably all of the popular people in the whole school crowded in a bunch, near my desk. My desk is the most deformed thing on this planet, people have tried to burn it, vandalise it, and paint it. The billions of times I’ve had to clean up their stinky mess is exhausting but it’s not like I can complain, I’ll be expelled faster that way.

I’m like a huge growing fungus on the school that has been stamped on countless times.

As expected my desk has new messages written on it like go to hell or Your so ugly death doesn’t even want you so on and forth. It doesn’t bother me anymore. I sigh look up and see side b**chs snickering at me. Classic Veronica. Meanest b**ch in the school.

She has been my enemy since the moment I stepped into college and we met each other eye to eye. She has tried to freak me out of the school with many ways that never work, she’s never done anything worth prison for but she has done many things that cross the law.

I pick up my bags and prepare for lessons. ‘Hey ugly arnt you upset? Please, give us a few tears.’ That was Brian, the stinkiest bast**d you’ll ever meet.

‘No thanks, my tears are more expensive than your collection of Ferrari’s, you don’t deserve to see them.’ I look up, dead-pan, his eyes fuelled with fire. He was p*ssed.

‘Still arrogant I guess nothings changed after Easter holiday.’ he smirks.

I smile at him fakely, and then swat the air like it was him, he saw and although he knew what I was doing and it clearly angered him he backed off, and didn’t try anything more.

I guess I have formed a sharp tongue since the first time I got bullied, it’s like a survival game, the sharper your tongue the longer you can live.

During class, the kids around me kept throwing stuff at my hair, since it’s curly I guess they think it’s fun throwing paper on it. It’s just pure evil, every time I get out of class I find a random rubber or notebook stuck between tangled of hair I’m certain I made sure to brush off.

What if people stopped judging others using appearance? What if people weren’t bothered by appearance? Is social status or expectation changing other peoples views on things? Are people actually pitying me but can’t do anything about it because they don’t want to be an outcast? Can I make anyone love me? Can anyone love me? What if I did something? Something to see if people could fal in love with me? What if I want love?

Ideas swirled round my head and an ingenious idea built itself! What if I pick a person to love me and guarantee that they’ll love me for me?!? My eyes grow wide and alert. But who should I pick? I want someone difficult to prove my point! Someone who maybe even hates me!!

I bite the inside corners of my lips (a little tick of mine when I’m thinking really hard) my eyes scan the room, a guy who hates me and I can experiment on... my eyes set right on him, eyes widen in excitement , well duh he hates my guts, this’ll be difficult but I like a little challenge.

I smile evily, I felt like a mad scientist in this case more of a crazy psychologist! He is my target, BRIAN!

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