Michael,
I'm sorry about that phone call the other day. I feel so stupid for calling and walking you up. I never used my razor, though. I set it back into my Chapstick bullet and talked to you for the rest of the night.
I had school again today. The kids aren't even fake nice to me anymore. They're rude and they laugh at me. Nobody talks to me anymore, I'm ignored again. I can hear them making fun of me, calling me names like spider because of my long legs and other rude things. I'm at my breaking point but I won't give in, because you're the one keeping me here.
My parents aren't treating me much better. They call me a disappointment because I'm gay and they're too dense to accept it. I don't know what to do, Michael.
-A Loser
aka Luke Hemmings
These chapters are so short and shitty ;-; Ugh ugh. I'm sorry about that.
-Shianne xx
YOU ARE READING
A Loser's Letters *Muke*
Fanfiction"Kiss me, you loser," "No problem my red headed punk rocker," A series of letters between Luke Hemmings and Michael Clifford; two Australian idiots brought together via English project. Trigger warning: Self harm Cover by undertoness
