Fml

5

I got my report card...
I was so nervous to look at it.
You're just wasting time Anne fkg read it already!

Woah...How did I even get 90% in 4 subjects, I've never gotten that many.
And I went up in math, french and science.
Gym I always got 80%, I surprisingly got 93% (Even if I'm a fat ass).
Brooke didn't seam that happy...
"I went down in everything...", she said.
I felt bad, but she tries so hard.
She really does.
Laurie is perfect, obviously she has the best notes.
I went home a little happy, thinking of those fantastic notes.
I was very excited to announce to my mother, she would be so proud!
Since I'm the only one with notes that pass...
"Mom! Mom!"
"Yes sweetie? Why are you so happy!"
"I got my report card!"
"Fantastic! Let me see it."
"Moooom"
Ugh, the most annoying voice ever. Taylor, my very obnoxious little nine year old brother who looks five. Of course he interrupts my mom and I when we talk. That's what he's best at, making my evening miserable.
"Yes Taylor?"
"I got my report card..."
"Anne as well, let me see"
She looked at mine first, I knew what was coming. She will tell me I'm great, Taylor will want her to look at his right away since he's impatient and unpleasant. Then she'll talk to him because he gets low grades, and I'll have nothing... No "You are so good at school Anne! I'm sooo proud of you"
"You did great Anne, as usual I'm proud of you honey."
"Mom read mine!!!!"
Sure read his and ignore me....
"Oh Taylor....Your notes, we need to work on this-" and bla-bla-bla..
I was waiting for her to stop and congratulate me more or something, but she didn't.
Too busy with Taylor.
"Um mom I'll be back I'm going in my room."
"Okay Anne diner will-"
"Mom!"
Yep diner will be something, go ahead tylenol interrupt our conversation that was very short again as usual. I love you you're the best brother ever!
I got ready for volleyball, a sport that I've been playing for more than a year.
I am okay at it, I love it a lot. It helps me get over my stress even if I get stressed at tournaments.
Wow nothing? No shirts? I have nothing to wear fml....
"Ugh..."
"What's wrong?"
Oh Mom you finally decided to come see me?
"I can't find anything for volleyball..."
"Oh...There's about 15 minutes before you need to be there, do you want to buy a shirt quickly?"
"Oh um yeah sure."

I packed a regular shirt just in case I find nothing.
In the store there wasn't much, I took a shit and my mother told me to get a small
(yes a small sized shirt for my big ass stomach!)
I had some doubts, because my arms are big.
"Mom if it doesn't fit me..."
"It will, trust me!"
"My arms are fat it might not..."
"Anne, your arms aren't fat."
"I'm not blind."
"I promise you that they aren't, let's get the shirt."
We bought it and in the car I started talking about my thoughts on me wearing clothes.

"I love shopping for clothes, but it always makes me disappointed and sad when nothing fits."
"When it doesn't fit it's because of the shirt not you."
"Well if I didn't eat so much..."
"Anne! Stop it, you are pretty. Maybe you're bigger, but that's not called fat it's being curvy and having a bit of muscles."
"I'm fat! I'm not blind Mom I can see! Look at me!"
I started feel the need to cry, but I held my tears in.
We got to the school, I needed to leave.
My mom didn't get the chance to answer me.
"See you later."
I went to the changing room to chance, obviously and...
Big surprise the shirt was fine...But not on my arms.
They are too big, of course I knew it.
I looked at myself in the mirror and started crying.
Am I really this fat? What the hell...
I realized the time and had to get in the gym.
This practice was bad, because she whole time I was just sad. The girls knew, but I gave them attitude so of course they just let me be...
I hate that feeling, even if I get it all the time.
The feeling of being mad at myself, but everyone thinks I'm mad at them.
Or they just want to know why I'm mad.
That's why it's easier to fake a smile.
...
Saturday, packing for March break.
I'm going to New York, I've never been out of the country.
Well once, to Trinidad
(an island that not too many people know.)
I went when I was about five months, I don't recall anything from it.
I'm happy to finally leave...
I told myself something,
Mom won't be there.
Which means she can't see my marks if I cut myself.
By the time I'm back they won't be as visible.
So I did a few marks over the old ones that are fading.
The harder I pressed the blade on my skin, the more blood came out...
I hate that people do it, they need help.
I don't want anyone to ever do it,
But I do.