I hate myself. I really, really, hate myself. And I really don’t think anyone will fall in love with me. And I cry because of my weight. And I cry because no one understands my anxiety and depression. I don’t want to talk to anyone about how I feel. I am afraid. Afraid of myself. I hate having a sister that my parents adore. I hate being left out of things. She is f***ing younger than me, and acts as if she is in charge. I don’t want to be touched. I don’t want to be bothered. And yet, I do. It bothers me. I am a paradox.