Its now coming up to eleven years of having acne. Yesterday, I went to my room, curled up in my duvet and cried for two hours. I'm not sure why, it didn't make me feel any better, but I felt so miserable I didn't know what else to do. I was too unhappy to speak to my family, to text my friends, to even read a book. I lay there and, although I've cried so many times over acne since I first got it at six, I've never felt so miserable. I give up and quite frankly, there's nothing I want to do other than never leave my house again.
Life gives everyone lemons now and then, if only it didn't have to give them acne too.