Why does my weight matter to anyone else but me? Why is it so important for others to make me wish that I was skinny?
Why do I believe that it was simply skinny, everything would be okay?
Why can’t they just me be? Why is it so important to make me feel bad about being me, about being chubby?
Overweight,
Fat,
Disgusting,
Why is this okay?
Why isn’t simply being me, okay? Why do I have to feel fatter than everybody? Grosser than everybody,
Why?
Like really.
Now you could start saying it’s because you’re not healthy, but does that matter to strangers?
Really?
Does my life impact them in anyway? Not really, would they rush to my aid if I was dying, alone and bloody on the street,
Yes,
Maybe.
It’s hard to say actually, it depends on the person and the day.
It depends on who walks by, if they have the time to save me,
To hold me as I fade,
It all depends on them, not on me. So If it wouldn’t disturb your day to have me alone and dying on your street. Why look at me that way?
Why pick on me?
Abuse me?
Glare at me, not of it makes sense really, at least not to me.
I’m fat okay?
I’m not saying you’re supposed to look at me and see this incredible beauty,
I’m saying you’re supposed to look at me, and just see me. Not my weight, not the color of my eyes or hints as to how my day is going or my week.
Just see me.
See me standing in the middle of a hallway, looking at my feet. See me texting or pretending to look busy while I wait. Just see me,
All of me,
Only me.
Don’t see my body size, my weight, my lack of a back-bone most days of the week.
I hurt easily,
I’m weak,
I’ve cried myself to sleep,
These things are me,
The real me,
All of me,
This is me.
You don’t get to judge me, or criticize me, pick of me,
Stare at me.
You don’t know me,
You don’t owe me anything,
So just leave me be.