Dear Isadora

Letter 10: Fatty

August 19th, 2011

Dear Isadora,

"Fatty" is what they call me.

"Fat little gay boy"

"Disgusting fat freak."

The insults go on...

And I'm starting to believe them all.

I stepped on the scale to confirm their accusations and... 160 pounds... I really am a fatty...

I've developed another problem... As if my life didn't have enough problems... I'm just a problem child... That's it...

I don't ever want to eat again...

I didn't even eat today...

And I don't plan on eating again...

I'll be fine... I never ate a whole lot anyways.

I'll easily get used to this new lifestyle...

I'm too fat anyways... Way too fat for society's liking.

I looked in the mirror for a good 10 minutes and I couldn't stop pointing out my flaws.

My hair is too messy...

My eyes are too gross.

I'm too pale.

I'm too ugly.

I'm too fat.

I'm so unlikeable.

I'm so disgusting.

It never ended. It was one of the worst 10 minutes of my entire life. Besides getting jumped every day for loving a male.

I hate this life...

And for some weird freaky reason, I now understand why you left me and this evil cruel world.

I just want to die... So badly... There's nothing here for me anymore... There's absolutely nobody I should live for anymore. You're gone, everyone hates me, our mother abandoned me. I just can't do this anymore...

I won't be missed... Absolutely wouldn't...

After all, I'm just a freak.

A freak who shouldn't even speak.

Because every word that comes out of my disgusting mouth is irrelevant, just like I am...

Can I die, please?

Nobody would even notice.

I skipped school for a week so I can redeem myself from all the energy that got sucked out of me because of my heroin addiction and the school didn't even call once. Not to check up on me nor scold me...

So they won't even notice I've died.

And after all, nobody can stop me anyways.

I'm just writing a letter to a dead person that will never read these letters anyways...

This is all a stupid coping mechanism anyways.