November 18 1992.
Dear D,
I think that I feel sad. I’m not sure. I think it’s sadness, but I am feeling panicky too. I have a dilemma. I don’t know whether or not to have plastic surgery. Mum says that I can. I wish that I had someone to talk this through with.
If I go ahead then my individuality will be destroyed. I guess that I’ll stop being me. I’ll be a totally different person. That’s what mum says.
But the bullying will end and my self confidence will increase and so will my general happiness. Part of me says that I am me. I am [insert name] and I should be happy that I am alive. But that’s a bit shit, because I feel so sad. I look at myself in the mirror and I hate what I see. I AM FAT AND UGLY.
I hate meeting people. I hate leaving a room in case people start talking about how ugly I am. I hate going out. Plastic surgery is a solution. I hate myself!
The other solution would be to cut and cut until my ugly face was one big scab.
I AM FAT AND UGLY.
Why would anyone every love me?
I'm glad that mum doesn't know about my eating.
x
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