The 9th of April was the worst day for me ;despite it being my birthday no one celebrated it for the most absurd reasons....curses and what not they would say but deep down I knew it was because no one really cared about me.
I'm 13 today and a teenager now but I felt and acted much older according to most people,I was never fussy or naughty or social. I was silent and mature for my age and an analyst as they said to me and I would simply say it was because of books I read but it was really because of childhood trauma but who would ever know really.
I had already developed most of my body when I turned 13 and hated my huge bust....I found it an odity and always felt people stare at it mid conversation. I had a round chubby body and always had nicknames given to me for it....Fatty and Ball they used to call me and at some point I grew accustomed to it and the insults no longer hit a nerve but simply grew blunt like a butter knife,unable to pierce my heart or hurt my self esteem.
Despite being a smart child I never really fit in with others and though I was loud and talkative I never had true friends but I tried desperately to fit into any cliché that appealed to my interests.
Oh dear diary there is so much for me to say to you like how I had my first crush and how I lost my first kiss but all that is for another day.