"Dear I,
I want you to know that all the things I posted on my Twitter a few days ago weren't about you. You have nothing to do with it. It's about somebody else that clearly isn't you. Don't worry, because I have no reason to do that to you and I wouldn't do that to you. You've been such a great friend for me you know that."
Anyway, here's the story.
I sat by the window in my room as I watched the kids playing tag on the street. They were chasing each other, laughing, and having fun. While I, on the other hand, watched them from my window with a painful look on my face. I pulled up my knees to my chest and hugged it tightly. 'Cover Girl' by Big Time Rush blasted loudly from the speaker of my laptop. For the first time, I felt worse by hearing this song. I know this song should actually make the listeners feel good, but it didn't happen to me today. I felt like wanna cry. Tears were already in the corner of my eyes when the door of my room slammed open. I turned and saw Matt, my big brother, standing there in the doorway with a small smile on his face.
"You look sad." He said as he walked into my room and sat on the space next to me. I shrugged my shoulders and looked out at the street again, "You know, I'm here if you wanna talk."
A loud sigh escaped from my mouth as I turned to face him, "Actually I wanna talk to you about something. Well, not 'talk' actually, I just want you to hear me and say a few words if it's needed." I spoke and he shrugged his shoulders casually, "I've been in a crappy mood this weekend."
"I can see that." He replied shortly as he pulled out his phone and locked his gaze at the screen.
"Well, you know how I hate being called fat, right? No. Not only me, but every girl hates that. And for the thousandth time in my life, I hate being called that. Yes, I know I look fat, my cheeks are chubby, and I gain some weight. But, really? You can't keep telling me that every time, right? I know that I'm fat, okay? You don't have to tell me that." I took a sharp, short breath before continuing my words, "I'm sick of people telling me that. What's their point of telling me that? To make me diet so I can lose some weight? If that is their reason, well it's not working. It's only making me feel worse than I already was. Seriously, I just want everybody to shut up about it. I'm sick of people telling me that."
He was about to open his mouth and say something but I cut him, "What happens to 'don't call every girl fat even if you're joking'? I think people should really remember that next time."
"You're not done, are you?" He asked, turning his head to see me, and I shook my head at him, "Well then, go on."
"And I wrote on my Twitter about how I hate people who keep telling me what to do and such, and one of my best friends thought that it was about her just because we were texting about her trying to get me a boyfriend a few minutes before I wrote that on Twitter. She replied me and I replied her back that it wasn't her but until now, I still have this feeling that she may still think that it's about her. And now, I'm afraid that she will hate me and leave me alone." I rambled as tears started to well up in my eyes again. I couldn't think about it without tears in my eyes. The thought of her leaving me was... painful and scaring the hell out of me. I don't wanna be ignored and left out again in my life.
I went silent and that's when he started to speak, "First of all, I'm gonna say that you're the most insecure person I've ever known. You need to stop that, you know. Every girl is beautiful in their own way. You're beautiful on your own way. Don't listen to those people who tell you that. Just ignore them, okay?" I looked down at my hands when he said that, "And about that whole Twitter 'drama', I guess the most important is, you already clarified that it wasn't for her. Say sorry that it wasn't for anyone from your Twitter land."
I wasn't really satisfied on what he said. But I was glad that he listened to me when I was talking though he was acting like he wasn't listening. It felt nice to finally let it all out of my chest... without tears falling out of my eyes. I know how these things can make me cry, because I've done it once or twice before. I did that because I kept the things in my chest and didn't talk with anyone. I only wrote it on my journal and hoped that my journal could suddenly come alive and talk to me. So the things I did were put some sad songs on and cry. It's pathetic, I know. I can't talk about it with my Mom because I'm too shy so the only option is my big brother who lives outside the town.
"Anyway, thank you for listening, big brother." I said to him with a small smile.
"Yeah, you're welcome."
-The End-
So, that's it. First of all, I'm sorry for any wrong grammar and spelling mistakes. Second, not all parts in this very short story is real, but some of it are really happening to me. Third, thank you so much for reading this crappy post. Last but not least, see you on the next post and hope you all have a nice day!
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