J_Doe032692 wrote: I am not a thin person. However this does not give people the right to taunt me, calling me ugly and worthless, telling me to kill myself because no one will ever want me, or to make up songs about why I am so fat and how much food I eat. NO ONE, I repeat, NO ONE HAS THE RIGHT TO HURT ANOTHER HUMAN BEING THIS BADLY.
My throat constricts. The neck brace feels as if it's shrinking and cutting off my esophagus. I reach up and cover the words with my hand and the web site dissolves.
I want to go.
Now.
Stichwörter: shame suicide bullying weight fat attractive thin shaming
During those times, they'd stand there watching me watching them. I'd pray, please. Put a pillow to my face. Clench a hand around my throat. Stab me. Shoot me. Put me out of everyone's misery.
Why did you give birth to such a loser? Why didn't you admit I was hopeless and fat and stop trying to make me fit in? This world wasn't meant for me. I was born too soon or too late. Too defective.
I wish I could tell my parents, "If you want to help me, help me die."
I wonder, Are they required to fill out a 24-hour suicide watch form? Is the Defect at home? Check. Is It alive? Check.
Why did they bother with the constructive surgery on my throat anyway? Waste of money. They threw away or hid from me everything with sharp edges or breakables. Picture frames. Pottery. Did they think they could suicide-proof this place?
I want to tell them, "Chip, Kim, there is no way to suicide-proof a person
Stichwörter: suicide dehumanization fat suicidal suicide-watch weight-death
I gaze up at the ceiling. Through it. Past Kim and Chip's room on the second floor into the sky, space, heaven, hell. Who says hell is down? It could be up. It could be next door to heaven. Hell could be a subset of heaven, like a ghetto in the middle of a glass city.
Julie Anne PetersAnd it’s more. It’s about getting past that question of whats
wrong with me, to knowing there’s nothing wrong, that you were born
this way. You're a normal person and a beautiful person and you
should be proud of who you are. You deserve to live and live with dignity
and show people your pride.
Sometimes I felt as if there were no tomorrows, that everything, my whole life, was crammed into one long day. A continuous stretch of meaningless time. Sometimes I even wished there was no tomorrow, if this was all I had to look forward to.
Julie Anne PetersYet, when we talked, when we were together, she seemed so familiar. Seemed to know who I was, where I was coming from. She knew me better than I knew myself, I think. She was easy to be with. And I wanted to be with her, like all the time.
Julie Anne PetersSometimes I'd catch myself looking at my reflection in windows and wonder who I was. Where I was going. Then the image would change and it wouldn't be me, just some nebulous shadow person.
Julie Anne PetersI hated lying, though. That’s probably why I was so bad at it.
Julie Anne PetersMom's eyes blazed. "Are you sleeping with her?"
Oh, god. Did we have to do this here? Now? "Well, actually," I smirked, "we don't get a lot of sleep.
Stichwörter: humor
My hand is whole, unblemished. It’s still attached to my arm. It feels contaminated, though, and I have the strongest urge to wash my hands. I can control that urge, wash them later.
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