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Have you ever wondered how much of your life has been decided by your looks?

What if I had red hair? Would my fate be the same? Could the color of my hair change who I was entirely? Maybe my story would be so different.

The small mirror stares back at me in the dark room. It reflects the face of a girl that I barely recognize. Long brown hair, and brown eyes. Curves flow down my tired body and deep crevices are placed at the exact points where my hips begin. Men stare at me though I strongly believe that my body is mediocre at best.

Four walls surround me. They may contain me but they cannot command me. I can choose at any moment to leave these walls. I can choose in any whim of a thought to leave this room and never come back. What keeps me here?

Perhaps it is the metaphorical ropes of relationships that I have burdened myself with. Even more so, it could be the real ropes of a family. Genetics can pull you down to earth so hard that you break your bones upon the roots that you thought would never hurt you.

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