I had many dreams.
my voice was too big for anyone to happily endure
and my heart too sad to persist.

One of my teachers told me I was talented
bright, special, full of potential.
When I got home that day,
I changed clothes, and
thunder from my thighs clapped as I sat down.

I would text him all day and night
even in a sleep deprived state.
The only thing on my mind was about my heavily outlined body
like someone had coloured it in with dark permanent marker pen
which could never be erased.

We'd walk together
and it probably seemed as if he was handling a blown up balloon down the path.
I thought of all the internal laughs people would suppress
why someone of his beauty would be with someone as ill-favoured as myself.

He would show me photos of another girl.
She was beautiful.
I could only think of the invasion of infatuation he would have for her
and I would be thrown into a landfill,
unwanted.

Shopping with your best friend
is supposed to be fun, right?
I tried on the same clothes as her;
I looked like a stubbed toe
that needed to be bandaged up forever.
She looked like a perfectly manicured finger
faultlessly shaped to fit
the glove of society.

My favourite people cradled me as I internally sobbed.
I felt like a novelty.

Loving a fat person is *not a ******* novelty.