I always found a way in which I looked entirely wrong. This might send me down a rabbit hole for days - or weeks - of worry and self-loathing. How had I been so delusional as to imagine I looked fine, even good? The picture seemed to laugh in my face. It felt cruel.
The Angst (and Joy) of Pictures
The Angst (and Joy) of Pictures
The Angst (and Joy) of Pictures
I always found a way in which I looked entirely wrong. This might send me down a rabbit hole for days - or weeks - of worry and self-loathing. How had I been so delusional as to imagine I looked fine, even good? The picture seemed to laugh in my face. It felt cruel.