Ever since I can remember, I’ve been fat. When you’re a young child, chubby equals cute. When you get older, it does not. The scars of my youth, teenage years, adulthood and beyond can’t be seen on the outside. But, inside they run deep and take many years to vanish. And, just when you think that you’re beginning to heal, someone spits out their very sharp words and cuts you again. The cycle keeps repeating and repeating until you just learn to live with the pain. You do whatever it takes to always be in the background. You live very carefully and try not to be noticed. If and when you are, it’s very uncomfortable. It’s so hard to let your light shine when all you see (and wear) is black.
leasy does it 