Letter 2

11/24/2014

Dear you,

It's only been a day and I have a lot to tell you. Remember I told you about  being a little friendless? Well, I'm not totally alone. Yesterday I saw my friends. We went to the movies and saw Mockinjay Pt.1. I must tell you that I did things that do not make me proud but I would totally repeat them.

First, in the morning, while I was getting ready my dad gave me fruit for breakfast but I was already late and decided not to eat it. I know perfectly well what his reaction would be so I just simply flushed it down the toilet. I know it isn't right, but it gave me a feeling of control I hadn't experienced in a while.

I think I will began to gain control in my food. I won't have breakfast, I won't eat at school, I won't have dinner. Probably I'll finally be thin and pretty. Maybe this way I'll have a thigh gap, hip bones and a rib cage showing.

Later, in the movie, I found a different way to hurt myself when I don't have a wall near me. I just scratch my wrist until it hurts and that's all I need to release my anxiety. My friends never noticed my red wrist or the constant movements I did to touch it.

Today hasn't been an easy day, neither.

When I arrived at school, I was called to the director's office who told me that I had to go to the library because my parents hadn't paid the tuitition (I hope I wrote right). It was just 7AM and my day had totally gone wrong. I was not going to cry in front of everyone.

I stayed in the libraby until 10AM, when my dad arrived to take me home. I was really sad but I know that my dad is doing everything he can to make this situation better. I really know that but I just want to cry and be alone. Slowly drifting in my pain.

Now, around an hour ago, my dad told me that tomorrow will be the same story. He gave me two options: either I go to school and they will sent me to the library again or I stayed home. I decided to stay home. I am not good dealing with whispers and weird glances.

I know I should say/write/think this, but days like today make me wanna die.

Grace.

Letter 1

11/22/14

Dear you, 

First of all I must introduce myself. My name is Grace and I'm 17. I'm a teenager with issues. I mean, I know that life isn't perfect, and no matter how much I try it is never going to be easy. I haven't been happy since a lot of time now (maybe around a year). I would never kill myself because I'm not brave enough to go with it. I, however, do know that if I was walking and a car was coming my way I woudln't move. Yeah, most day I want to die. 

I cannot remember the last day I was okay. Lately I've been better but I'm still sad. I don't know if this is depression, but I'm sure as hell that I shouldn't be feeling like this. I'm fat. I'm uly. I'm weird. I'm boring. I'm stupid. I'm alone. I'm full of flaws.

My parents and siblings and family in general, can't see through facade. They all think I'm fine. That I'm complete. I AM NOT. I tend to hide my feelings and cry in the shower to not be heard. Everybody can fake a smile, right? My mouth is open but my eyes are dead and they don't see it. It's surprising how easy they see through me. 

I prefer physical pain than emotional pain. Physical pain can be handled with a pill, while the emotional pain won't go away. I do not cut myself (I don't want scars) but I do cause myself pain. Usually I hit a wall until I can't feel my hand. 

I should tell you about my friends. I used to have several. One year I switched schools and was left with no one. I managed to make new ones. The next year, all the friends I did, changed their schools and again I was alone. This year, my best friend moved to London (I'm from Mexico) and I cannot explain the feeling of losing him. I'm not totally friendless because I still hang around with those who are left but it's not the same.

I am fat. Everybody tells me the opposite but I'm not sure. I'm 5'4 and my weight is 136 pounds. You'll probably say to that I'm okay, but my stomach rolls, my inexistent thigh gap, my fat arms are telling me that I'm fat. The mirror doesn't lie. It shows me my ugly, pimply face and my crooked, yellow-ish teeth. I know I'm not pretty.

Dear you, I think I've said enough for this letter, I'll write something later and let you read it. Hope you don't hate me too,

Grace.