tiny, pretty girls

I wish i were a pretty girl. tiny pretty girl with a tiny waist and a pretty face. A pretty girl with a boyfriend who'd talk about *** with her friends. A pretty girl like almost all girls from my old school. I thought i'd grown out of this, Isabele. Of wanting to be a pretty, tiny girl. I saw Tiffany and she's gorgeous. I spent over an hour scrolling through Instagram because all my ex classmates are so pretty. There's an Ana girl, even. She used to be nice to me. Just everyone. People are turning 18 Emily's turning 18. It's been over a year I don't talk to Emily. Would she forgive me? I just want someone. I don't care if I don't like Emily. I just want to be invited to a birthday party. I just want to stop pretending I like being with myself so much, because I hate me. I hate me so ******* much. And I act as if I hate them more than I hate me. I just want Emily back. Igor and Giovanna and Luana back. So we can hang out and mess around. It's been three years. Don't think I'm not moving on. I got Nathan. But I wasted my youth for him. I'm fat. I'm not okay with being fat. But I can't stop eating. I tried, I can't I want ana again. I want to be sick again, I want to have *** and go to parties and get drunk I want to hate books—ok I didn't quite mean that one. Maggie and Nate are the only one's i've got. I know he'll take me better places than stupid teenage parties, but ****, Isabele, I'm 17. I don't want to be that girl. The girl i am, i don't want to be her. The girl sitting in the corner with her nose tucked in a book, who talks to no one but her social science teacher. That's you Isabele. You're what they call a weirdo. It's you, it's you, it's you and yesterday Gabriella wore a tutu to school, and it felt right. When you try the lightest to fit in, it feels like you're trying too hard. Even when you put your 21 pilots shirt. I know you like them, but it looks like you're faking. Trying too hard. It doesn't fit. Not like Gabriella's tutu. Gabriella's a tiny, pretty girl who goes to parties and kisses people. You're just you. Why don't you take me to parties and boys' houses? It's like your hymen grew back. I'm seventeen. I'm young. I've got all the time in the world. Why don't you want to be, I don't know, a nutritionist? But you're so ambitious. and your ambitions deprived me of my youth. I want weed and alcohol and I want to cut bangs with my girlfriends at three a.m. I don't have friends. This is my last year at school. You have any idea how many people said this'd be the best year of my life? But I'm friendless and fat and writing about boys and life and it seriously feels like seventh grade all over again. Tell me we at least got close to where we wanted to me. Us and Nathan. If we're not, i hope you **** yourself.