This book is not lonely. The author is. I realise my fictitious fans probably assume I have plenty of friends. I mean, who wouldn't want to be friends with a hideous and socially awkward gal like me? The answer? No one. So I'm usually left sitting on my own while staring off into space. One of my favourite pass-times is stuffing my face and thinking about all the mistakes I've made, all the people who hate me, and whether or not I should make myself throw up all the food I've binge-eaten. But no one would ever know that. No, to everyone else, I'm just a weird, fat, ugly girl who's constantly fishing for compliments and pity. No one notices that I pinch my fat every time I think no one's looking. No one notices that I slow or stop my eating depending on where I am or who I'm with. No one notices that the moment someone says that I'm fishing for compliments that I'm really just trying to convince people of the same truth I've taught myself. I've taught myself that I am repulsive, and other people have taught me that too. Other people, the ones who are willing to speak the truth, have recognized that I am fat. That I am ugly. That I am a loser. That I am lonely.
YOU ARE READING
A Normal Book
No FicciónThis book is normal. The author isn't. The author is untrusting, desperate, and scared of embarrassment. The author hates the author.
