There was nothing I hated worse than clumps of whispering girls who got quiet when I passed. I started picking scabs off my body and, when I didn't have any, gnawing the flesh around my fingernails until I was a bleeding wreck. I worried so much about how I looked and whether I was doing things right, I felt half the time I was impersonating a girl instead of really being me.
The narrator expresses intense discomfort with the judgmental behavior of girls around her, particularly those who whisper and fall silent when she approaches. This sense of alienation drives her to engage in self-destructive habits, like picking at her skin and biting her nails, leading to physical harm. This behavior reflects her deep anxiety and insecurity about her social interactions and self-image.
She feels a constant pressure to conform to an ideal...
