Back To 14

I pulled myself of those goddammned motherfucking meds. Really, people, happy life sucks. Call me crazy. but I love the darkness. I love the depression, crave for tears. Mabye it's because my house is NOREALLYEVERYTHINGSFINEREALLY, my mom is anixious and has an unfuffilling life, and I NEED to feel. Something! I mean, I don't want to be the walking talking Barbie who does everything her mother wants and is a good little girl! I could never be Barbie, anyways. And what the fuck, I don't want to be! So what guys will pass me by without so much as a second glace? So what if girls snicker as I eat? You try being me. You try spending everyday yoyoing through happiness and depression. You try spending every day drowning in your own work, absorbed by a mother who dosent want to admit her problems and a father who has more than you can count!
So yes I am a 14 (in size) again. And you know what?

It's not your duty to lecture me.
It's not your duty to give me femminist bullcrap on size dosent matter.
It's your duty to judge by more than looks alone.