Thank you so much for your encouraging words!

I’ve prayed and prayed and prayed, yet nothing seems to rid me of this burden. I’m about ready to give up and accept my fate.

Am I doing it wrong? This is why I’m posting this story, so maybe someone else’s prayers can save me.

Because that was my mindset. It was. As horrible as it is to admit. You can’t get the whole story of me without seeing the person I was. It’s how I thought. Other people didn’t matter to me.

Writing this was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. My internal transformation, so to speak, was because of losing my skin and seeing how ugly I was on the inside. But writing down the person I used to be, and the selfish, narcissistic, and awful traits that came with it, that was harder in a way.

It was just as painful honestly.

Now, of course, realizing the mistakes I’ve made and being able to change for the better, it’s all I can do.

>barely knew her

I knew OF her, but I never cared enough about her to remember her name. I worked with her for years I suppose, but like I said, she was only a face to me. Nothing more.

I’m sure there’s people you work with that you don’t know very well. Someone in a corner office or someone who works a different shift, perhaps?

In the fashion industry, it’s even worse. There are very few colleagues you get on a name-to-name basis with, simply because everything is moving so quickly. There is always a another place to shoot, a new brand to promote, a new style to push, a new fragrance to bathe in.

As for her ire towards Nico, I can’t say. I think her hatred and anger was directed towards me because I was so beautiful. Did Nico enable my inexcusable behavior? Absolutely. Was he ultimately responsible for her misery and resentment?

No, I was.

It eats me up.

The pain is unbearable. And not just the physical deformities.

Imagine your entire life, everything you love, stripped away from you. Literally.

And yes, I realize in retrospect just how appalling my behavior was. There is no excuse for it. I’ve tried to live as normally as I can, but I still look at my wall of magazine covers and just sob. It’s such a challenge to even get out of bed and stare at myself in the mirror. What I’ve become.

I do feel relieved in a way. Modeling changed me. It made me toxic and unlikable. I think I’ve shed most of that, mainly because I’ve had to push through all of the self-glorification and strip my ego down to nothing.

It’s just been so hard.