Dear Self.

Couldn't you pretend to be more like normal girls?
I mean, just pretend to be into shopping and designer clothes and expensive things.
Your sister got it right. Straight As, Husband, cute clothes, good college, House, pretty face to go along with the brains.
But no.
You go through life in your baggy clothes and jeans and scars on your stomach and obsession with dying and rack up therapist bills and be the imperfect child with her own child.
I hate you so much that, really, i think we should be different people.

Hate.
Me