i hate my face it feels like it’s made of heavy heavy clay and i have to pull the strings to make it smile—every day every single day i go to the shop and i sit in the back for ten minutes just practiceing the face... practiceing how to look like a person who belongs there even though i dont—i really dont—my boss says i gotta be "bubbly" but bubbly is just a lie i tell with my eyes—i hate the eyes the most—i have to stare at their noses so it looks like im looking at them but not really looking—staring staring staring until my head hurts and i feel like i might throw up right on the fancy rug heres the things i have to say—the list in my head that never stops: 1. hi welcome in 2. can i help you find a size 3. that color is so pretty on you 4. would you like a bag 5.