Unbreakable.

“She’s the girl in the corner, she’s the girl nobody loved”~~ Jamie Scott, Unbreakable.

Hey Jamie Scott.
A random thought occurred to me, hence this letter. I know the odds of you ever reading this are close to none, but I have been writing to mum since she walked out on me all those years ago and never getting a reply. So the lack of one from you won't hurt as much as it should.

I have listened to your songs since I learnt what beautiful music sounded like, but I can't wean myself off this particular one. I clung to it.
I couldn't help but realise that I was who you were singing about. For the most part, but we'll get to that later.

Anyway, I lost my journal. Well, I kind of threw it in the lake during one of my routine fits of anger last week. Since I can't retrieve it, this seemed like a viable option considering I'll probably be talking to myself. No hard feelings.
Anyway since we are here, I'd love for you to walk with me through my day.

Today is going to suck, even worse than every other day. I know from the panic that claws up my throat the moment my eyes open. 12hours in school. Again. I have one of those compulsory class presentations and I've never wished for a fever so bad. I stay in bed for close to an hour to calm my erratic breathing. Something has got to give eventually, so I hurl the covers off me and head to the bathroom. I don't spare my mirror as much as a second glance, no need to be reminded of the extra layers of fat showing on my belly. I have my father to remind me of that every time I reach for a chip.

"If you're going to add any extra weight, at least let it be on the rest of your body."

The thing is, Jamie, I'm not complaining about my weight right now. I just wish my tummy didn't spring up in an array of rolls every time I walked or sat. Or that my legs weren't a tad too small.

Etc, I don't want to bore you with it.

I dress up and walk out the front door. My dad doesn't spare me a second glance from his morning paper. Sigh. I guess that's better than complaining about every other little thing.

I walk until I reach the gate, and then pause to catch my breath. And calm the nerves. I wipe my sweaty palms on my jeans. Time to do this. One step after another, ignore the stares. Rude, if you ask me, but what do I know? Past the girls bold enough to laugh their lungs out without the fear of drawing too much attention to themselves. They revel in it. Must be nice. Past my boyfriend who loves me only in the dark, resolutely ignores me when he is with his friends. I know, I'm supposed to break up with him, but it's nice feeling wanted for a change. Does it matter that the rest of the world doesn't know he does?
I get to class; my daily dose of hell. I feel them watching me slink into my corner. Some days I feel invisible, thankfully, but other days, my God. Like a giant bubble floating on an otherwise calm lake. Everyone can see how much I don't fit in.

Speaking of sore thumbs.

8:25am. Time for my presentation. A sheen of sweat forms on my face as I walk the unbearably long corridor to the front. I ignore the stares as I start to speak, project my voice to drown the voices in my head. When I'm done, they nod in approval. They always do.
But I see through the facade. I am not one of them, never will be and I don't belong here.
I'm done talking, so the voices in my head punish me incessantly.

"You'll never be good enough, your face is far too plain for anyone's liking"

"No one would want to make friends with you, you're way too boring."

"Girl with mummy issues? Hell no"

"Don't speak to them, your voice is way too hoarse. Girl, even I wouldn't want that."

"Look at all that acne"

And so it goes on and on.

These recollections of my day haunt me in the middle of the night, when I finally let the tears flow down my face. Remember, Jamie, when I said you sang about me for the most part? You also sang about putting your arms around me, making me unbreakable. I don't have that. I'm tired of showing up for myself, and shutting everyone out. I also can't let them in, because what if they don't want to stay? They want me only because I let them manipulate me, do their assignments and make the subject of a good joke. Everyone seems better off without me.

I know I can’t listen to what people say, but dad says I need more friends because I’m a recluse. Is there anything beneath the anxiety? My friend tells me I’m so much more than I give myself credit for, but does he really mean it? Is he just another make shift therapist trying to make me feel better about myself? What if one day, I can’t show up for myself anymore? What then?

So yes, Jamie, you sang about me.

I'm the girl nobody loved.

(PS: This isn't about me.)