[ WP ] , When they turn 18 , everyone gets a clear mental image of their Soulmate , the one person they 're meant to love . Today is your birthday , and you see yourself .

`` No,'' I whimpered. 
 
 I winced as I observed the vision before me, desperately clinging to the hope that it was n't me I was seeing, but it was unmistakable. That pathetic zit-ridden face, those pitiful scrawny arms, even that stupid fucking hairstyle - none of those things could have belonged to anyone else. 
 
 `` Damn it, no,'' I repeated, barely successful at fighting back tears. 
 
 I did n't understand, and I did n't want to. Waiting for this moment to come was all that kept me sane, but instead of being greeted by the visage of a gentle rescuer, somebody who could make me feel whole again, I saw the hideous thing I hated the most. Why could n't I have gotten an image of somebody else? 
 
 Why wo n't somebody else love me? 
 
 I knew the answer to that question: that I'm unlovable. That very thought made me want to look around for something to knock over, out of habit, but all I could do was fumble around - no matter how much I tried, I could n't see anything in front of me except for that damnable vision of myself. 
 
 I would have loved to look at anything else - anything else at all. Just not that. 
 
 But I soon regretted that too; the vision shimmered a bit, distorting itself until it revealed an even more horrendous monster. 
 
 `` That's wh-what I looked like when I was a kid,'' I stammered aloud, in keeping with my annoying habit of narrating my experiences. Of fucking course it was. 
 
 I hated that iteration of myself even more. Past me was an obnoxious little shit. I should have known back then that I was such a screw-up that people could only *pretend* to love me, and now, this subconscious mumbo jumbo was supposed to convince me I had to for real? 
 
 I fumed. I clawed and scratched at the apparition - reaching only thin air, of course - but it kept grinning that ugly, cheeky grin at me. Continuing to be assaulted by the image of that fucking face only made me angrier. 
 
 `` Why?'' I screamed, grimacing as my voice cracked. `` Why me?'' 
 
 As if to answer, the hallucination wavered again, showing me the last bit of a moment of my life I remembered all too well - but this time, it was n't through my own eyes. 
 
 `` I'll show you,'' I watched my twelve-year-old self say. `` I do n't need anyone! Go to Hell!'' 
 
 Normally, I'd cringe at the inanity of those words, and my reverie would stop there, but the mirage continued. I stared, confused, at the angry pre-teen. 
 
 No. Not angry, anymore - just alone. The disgust on my face melted away as I witnessed my younger face shift from defiance to despair in what seemed like no time at all. 
 
 It... *I*... sobbed raucously, endeavoring in vain to say something else, only to be drowned out by shivering and sniffling. No words would come - only tears and snot. 
 
 My confusion dissipated like the clearing of fog, and I could n't help but start crying in unison with myself as comprehension gradually set in. 
 
 I managed three words before I, too, gave in to inelegant blubbering and the sudden urge to hug the person I hated the most. 
 
 `` I'm so sorry.''
