As much as I could appreciate people supporting me, it didn’t help. Maybe I was an inspiration to some, but only as far as their eyes could see. If they saw what was beneath my long sleeves, who knows what they would think of me. Would they still hold me in the same regard? Or would they say I needed help? They saw me as one thing, but I was a lot of things. Uneasy, unhappy, difficult, weird . . . but I think most of all, I was torn. I’d thought that losing weight would make life easier. I thought it would help me find love, happiness, and reassurance, knowing that I didn’t have to feel insecure about my looks. But when I had to see my excess skin every day, I felt awful to the point of pushing everyone away. I felt alone, stranded, and trapped in a storm that I had created. I looked like a monster, so I guess I had to isolate myself like one.

Chapter 16 Her Left Hook

I couldn’t find Donny anywhere that afternoon, and I didn’t want to be alone. I sent him a text.

Me: Yoo, where you at?

There was no reply, and my battery was at eight per cent. I wandered the halls, hoping maybe his phone had died and that he was just chilling somewhere else. I thought about going to the library to see if he was there, then realized Donny was far too loud and talkative to last long in there.

I made my way to the cafeteria, and through the crowds of students, I saw Desmond in the distance, sitting at a table with two girls. I couldn’t make out what he was saying, but he made them laugh, and he smiled, clearly enjoying the attention. He had gotten over Mel fast. He spotted me and gave me a subtle smirk. I returned the gesture with a middle finger, and wiped the smirk right off his face. I wasn’t in the mood for his bullshit that day, or ever. I ended up hanging out by myself underneath a stairwell until the class bell rang.

There was a lot to think about under that stairwell. I had to make things right with Mel. She’d poured herself out to me, and I’d thrown it back in her face. Sure, I was mad. But it wasn’t an excuse to treat people like crap. Mel deserved to be treated better. I opened up a journal from my backpack and began writing things that I could say to her.

Hey, listen. What I said a few weeks back? It was dumb.

Hey Mel. I’m real sorry. That was stupid, and I wasn’t thinking.

Mel, I don’t know what to say other than I was wrong.

None of it really stood out, and it made me frustrated. I needed to be authentic, I needed to be honest, I needed to be real. I had to let her know I was sorry, but not in a way that swept what happened under the rug. I had to be better.