To have a body is so strange.
And to know each curve, and hate each one
hurts.
She doesn't love who I am.
It makes me so mad that I can't like the people I like because of the way I look.
If I looked at the stars with her I wouldn't really notice them because I'd be concentrating on the way my fat rolls over my skirt and how to be witty and hilarious but also pose in an attractive way.
I can't see in the dark and neither can you.
Maybe I need someone with night vision, someone unreal.
But this universe we’ve built where we know each other- past friends… will never again exist.