A letter from Jul 24, 2025

Adios *****. I didn't think I'd survive past eighteen. Sometimes, that thought glitches now that I'm almost seventeen. Life wasn't all sparkles for me, though I wish it had. I wish I wasn't born at all. Or maybe born in a wealthier family. And I don't mean the material wealth. My parents are not bad people. Do not, ever, break their heart. And I say "my" because they might not be yours, too. They might just disown us for the things we are. Like, bi. Atheist. Liberal. Short-skirts-wearer, lol. I feel like I lived today. Masturbated twice, made myself protein-rich lunch instead of munching on junk snacks, freaked out on how I'll shave my arms cause I don't have a shaver, tried to pluck the blackheads out of my skin with my mom's tweezer and thought to myself, why do I act like a middle schooler? But today, I felt alive. Because I had people to talk to. And I won't ever admit it, but the only thing keeping me alive is my family. They're also the people who brought me to suffer on this planet. But I guess.. I'd have to let this one slide. By the way, please, for ****'s sake get over that Chai addiction and insecurity induced social anxiety. For some reason, I made myself believe I deserved every bad thing that ever happened to me cause I wasn't pleasant-looking enough. So, don't do me like that again, you ******* ****. And I exactly hope you dress like one now that you're away from your family. Which too, I desperately hope for. AND DO, YOU ******** ******, NOT APPLY YOUR LITTLE FALLACIES ON THIS NOTE. Muwah, hate your *** from day one. But your *** is pretty good, no lies. With the horrendous smelling puke from the depths of my gastric juices, *****.