Dear Nick,
I'm in my head again. I wish I could step on a scale and see if my weight has gone down. The thought of gaining weight is terrifying. I need to get smaller. I need to be thin. I need to be light. Until I am down to 120lbs, I am fat. I am a fat worthless bitch. I shouldn't exist. One day one of these notes will be my last. I will have my last look at the world. My last look at the stars. My last breath. Soon it will all be over. All the pain will go away. If not with you, then I shall be dead. Death is the final escape. You sat down next to me. Lana took your sheet, so that's probably why. The voice in my head is killing me. Cam just told me I am the reason they cried ten times today. All I ever do is fuck up people's life's. Why the fuck am I still hear??? I should just end it when I go home. It's funny how you don't even know I'm planning my death while sitting next to you. Haha, you don't even know how much you mean to me. I want to fucking die. I can't take this pain anymore. I'm starting to shake, fuck. Oh, you are leaving again. Maybe just to go to your locker. Yeah, you came back. At least you're happy I guess. That's all that matters.
-Sam
YOU ARE READING
Dear Nick
Teen FictionA teenager's letters to a boy who made all the pain disappear. If triggered easily, do not read.
