I Don’t Want To (Dean x Reader... work of fiction)
Warnings: ANGST, suicidal reader, self loathing, I guess like one sentence that might be considered slightly fluffy if you’re imaginative
A/N: This is for ANGST DAY! This my first attempt at angst. I have decided that I am too nice for angst. I can’t do this to people anymore. AHH. Expect me to go back on that and kill a fictional character some day. Also, I’m not sure what this is. Is it an extended drabble? Is it a one-shot? An imagine? Help. Anyways, enjoy!
You looked in the mirror. You didn’t like what you saw. It was a common enough feeling, you were sure, but it had been years, and no matter how many people told you you were beautiful (not that there had been that many), you still couldn’t see what they tried to convince you they could. You didn’t like how your chin pointed, or how your eyes drooped, or how your lips looked like they were pursed all the time. You didn’t like your hips, and you didn’t like the way your stomach made a lump under your jeans. You couldn’t really put a name to anything you did like, and you knew that as much as you hated the outside, everyone hated the inside more. People would tell you it wasn’t true, but you knew they just felt bad that you’d figured it out.