Fashion therapy. I had just had an interview to be part of the student prefectural body, and was not “the chosen one.” That was sad, but I didn't care much about the position. What really broke me into pieces was that I jeopardized the only chance I had to talk to my little sister who was in another boarding school miles away. The tears blinded me as I ran to the dorms, and I cried my heart out. After giving an outlet to the rawness inside, I had to put on a mask, and that was fashion. I took a long cold shower to wash away the brokenness, and I was left more of an empty shell. I put on my short sky blue dress that showed way too much cleavage,adorned the dark red lipstick, and contoured my bloodshot eyes with pitch black eyeliner. That evening, everyone complimented my outfit, and no one saw that I was sad, broken, and empty. Multiple times, the way I dress up reflect how I feel. When I'm happy I put on nice clothes but I don't do much of an effort. When I'm...