A Letter To The Seventh Grade Bully

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Maybe your teeth are actually 32 little daggers
Maybe you stab the air as you speak
Maybe you spew ice as you criticize
I know people take a long time to get ready in the morning And they stand in front of the mirror
Looking at the themselves, wondering if they look good enough And I will tell you right now, I am not even one of those people Maybe you are, and maybe you paint over your skin
Layers and layers of chemicals, smothering it in insincerity
And maybe when you stand in front of the mirror in the morning You look exactly like what you want to--perfect
But who’s to say what perfect is?
Maybe I believe that my imperfectness is perfect
And I know you think I am fat, weighing down the world
Pulling it down, with my fat, pudgy hands
And I am telling you right now, my cheeks don’t look like a chipmunk’s
And guess what? When you told the whole grade that I could eat
ten slices of pizza in one minute, you were one hundred percent
completely wrong, because that’s even better than the world record
And when I look at myself in the mirror, I may not be as skinny as you
But you don’t need to tell the whole grade that I am just plain fat
And no matter how I look, I want to revel at life
I want to be able to look back and have no regrets
Because you can’t go back and mend them
They’ll be permanent sometime or another
I don’t want to miss the sweet frosted cake
at someone’s birthday party just to look a certain way
The truth is, you coat yourself in icing, just to look like an ice princess
But the problem is, ice princesses seem to have hearts that are frozen too
I don’t want to be just bones, fragments of the world loosely connected together
?I want to be life. I want to have flesh and bones and be one giant mass of me And to be perfectly honest, you scare me
I used to think you were nice--mechanical smiles and distant hellos
But then your whispers floated across the broad spectrum of this world
And I caught a small glimpse of them and with one ear pressed to all the secrets
of this giant universe, I heard precisely what you said about me--how you stretched my body across the spectrum, lending a piece to everyone who asked
So I know you can be generous--just try once
on’t just lend things out, lend your heart out
Your thawed one, at that
You know, my mother always asks “what is the point of being mean?”
Do you have an answer?
Because ten years from now, we will just throw our possible friendship into
a giant blazing fire, charring and scarring it forever
And I will tell you, it will be so burnt that we won’t even be able to save it
It will be black smoke sifting through my fingers like a weeping phantom
And ten years from now, you won’t be an ice princess
I have faith.
Write back soon.
Sincerely yours.

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