I start my day off with half a grapefruit.
At most.
Maybe a piece of gum. Have a peanut here and there.
Every day. That's it.
This is what it means to be beautiful.

But my sister has stopped calling.
My mother doesn't come over anymore.
Because every time she looks at me,
she cries.

I don't know why it bothers them.
I tell myself they're just jealous.
No one is as skinny as me.

My brother sent me to a doctor,
once.
He told me I was unhealthy.
He told me I was going to die.
I didn't believe the man in white,
when he said these things too.
I was angry and so I tried to fight
against his words.
But I barely had enough energy
to lift myself out of the chair.

My father told me they're
going to take me away soon.
The doctors.
The men dressed in white.
To a place where I can
be healthy again.
It confuses me.
Because I am healthy.
They're the ones who are
wrong.
Not me.
I'm beautiful.

This is what beauty is.

I've decided that I
Hate
My
History teacher

His name is
Mr. Bernstein.

I hate him.

Why,
Might you ask,
Do you hate your history teacher?

I hate him
Because
He
Took
Off
Points
From my
HISTORY
Test

Because of my handwriting.

And thus,
I hate him.

Your 'y's,
He said,
They look like 'g's
And so he read
Mainly
As
Mainlg.

And I was
Marked
Down.

And remember,
Folks.
This is a
HISTORY
Test,
Not a
CALLIGRAPHY
Test.

There
Ought
To
Be
A
Law,
There ought to!