Judy // Melbourne // A bit of a mess // Please stop stealing my air
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My Shorts Are a Form of Rebellion
My shorts are a form of rebellion
to a world who has told me no
to a dad who told me my legs look gross
to a mom who told me that clothes can’t be that short.
My shorts are a form of rebellion
to the years where I covered up
to the long shirts and pants worn
even when it was 90 degrees out
so others wouldn’t have to see my body.
My shorts are a form of rebellion
and I hope they gross you out.
I hope it makes you uncomfortable
When you see my pale scarred trunks
and I hope you feel sick to your stomach
When I tell you I love myself.
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Mom: What's wrong?
My mind: I used to do so well in school but I'm not anymore.
My mind: The people I call friends, aren't my actual friends.
My mind: I'm constantly feeling alone.
My mind: I'm starting to look at myself different.
My mind: Nothing feels the same anymore.
My mind: I feel like I'm going to fail at anything I try to do.
My mind: I haven't been eating that much and I'm hungry all the time.
My mind: I feel like no one cares about me.
My mind: I just wanna sleep all day and never wake up.
Me: Oh nothing I'm fine.
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me: why are those people staring at me
me: is there something on my face
me: is there something on my shirt
me: they're probably laughing at how ugly i am
me: they probably find it amusing how fat i am
my friend : maybe they think you're cute
me : are you retarded
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Text
if you are rude to me i will drive to your house and throw crocs at you
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