I'd like to plead myself that I'm suffering because of anxiety, something such like it's disgusting to see myself reflection on the mirror. Or when I comb my hair and I wondered why I couldn't keep them long, and always cut them once in six months. I can't even proud on myself, making friends, atleast I always lying when i'm in a assignment group, persue myself that I like them, their personality, how they laugh on something, how their friendship goes. And I'm here was like "You all not my kind of people, go die, find your stupidity happiness". They're happy, not thinking too much, but why? How come? They're so fake. No, they aren't fake. Someone who's full of fake it's, me.