I’m 16.
I honestly like to flaunt my boobs.
I have horrible grades.
I’m not a perfect child.
I don’t want to amount to anything.
I can’t love the way most people want me to.
I’m the round straight line.
I’m not perfect.
I have very few friends.
My best ones are both from the internet and IRL.
My best friend on the internet is suicidal.
She doesn’t know how much I love her.
She doesn’t know how much I want to go down there and grab all the things she can harm herself with and just wrap my arms around her.
Hug her.
Tell her everything is all right.
That she’s loved.
By me.
She doesn’t know that I was just like her.
Everyone hated me.
Called me names.
Poked and prodded me.
And when I finally reacted,
I thought it would get worse.
Darling, please don’t do this.
Because I love you.
I’m sure your mom, brother, and father do too.
Maybe even more than I do.
You are wonderful.
You are beautiful.
And if you think you’re fat.
Then flaunt that gorgeous body off and don’t give two fucks about what people think.
Don’t go to sleep.
When things get tough, just message me.
If you have a cell phone, give me that number and I call you.
I could talk your ear off.
About love,
PewDiePie,
Cry,
Ken,
Anything,
Pirates for all I care.
Because I love you.
I don’t want you to harm yourself.
Please.
Just talk with me.
