I used to have adolescent nightmares about being trampled by crowds. Or sometimes, angry mobs would single me out and tear me apart with their bare hands.

I think this stems from the fact that I spent most of my childhood getting pushed around the playground:

Stupid cripple! Cripple! Cripple! You walk like a retard!
Ah, the innocent cruelty of children.

I decided that in a kill-or-be killed situation, I would be the first to go down. Not because I couldn't run as fast as other people, but because my sensitivity made me ill-equipped to face the world.

Now I'm sure that pain won't kill me--I'm far too tough for that.

I haven't decided about beauty yet. :)