Thahabu

I have this endless desire, no, hunger, to be normal.

I don’t want to be interesting or different. I want to be regular and pretty.

I’m tired of looking at perfect girls—and by “perfect” I mean girls whose spines are straight, girls who don’t have scoliosis, girls whose self-esteem issues revolve around weight and stretch marks.

I wish that was what I worried about when it comes to my body, at least then there are other girls with whom to talk to about those things—other girls who are self-conscious about stretch marks and weight.

I don’t know any girls who wake up crying in the middle of the night because their spine looks like a distorted Leaning Tower of Pisa. More importantly, I don’t know girls whose spines—even after spinal fusion surgery—still stray dramatically from their bodies the way that mine does.

I hate me.

I’m thinking of destroying everything, moving to a remote island and being ugly by myself. ♦