But its not funny. Not to people who’ve been told they’re losers their whole lives and believe they will never be anything else.
I hated him. I hated them all. They made me hate myself even more than I already did.
Yeah, I hear the truth. But this is my truth.
I got singled out. I don’t know why. Why do people always target me? Is it because I’m short and they figure I can’t fight back? They’re right, I can’t, but it’s not because I’m vertically challenged.
Who becomes you? No one. No one should become me. When I die, I don’t want my body or soul inhabited. I wouldn’t wish me on anyone.
I throw him two bones: a smile and a nod. Both lies.
No one else knows I’m alive, which means they won’t notice when I’m gone.
She’s still doing it, pushing me into situations I can’t handle, making me cope. She knows I can’t cope.
Do what, Kim? Lead a normal life? Too late. Way too late.
There’s no reason to speak. I have nothing to say.
I’m going to die a virgin. I like the thought if it. So pure.
Oh sure. Because we always talk about deep down stuff.
Really? It seems too good to be true. I don’t trust it. I don’t trust anyone.
The sad truth is, they should never trust me.
I’m sorry you don’t get it, Mom. Sometimes I don’t get why I do the things I do. I just know I wake up every morning and wish I was dead.
With determination and purpose, I head into the light.
His invitation lingers. So does my question. Why me? I don’t know the answer. When I look at myself in the mirror, all I see is a starving, stunted bird who never grew wings and lost all reason to sing.
My room is cleared. My head is cleared. Earlier, around dawn, I took out the last load of trash. I look around and see what’s left. Nothing. There is no more Daelyn Rice. As I was. As I am. Or will become. I’m a blank slate.
I just want the pain to end.
I knew right then and there nothing was ever going to change. It wouldn’t matter if I was tall or short or fat or thin or absent every day. I was a loser from birth.