To Andy, From Ducky

Content Warning: Body image, self-harm, body dysmorphia


By Anonymous

My cousin sent me a series of Snapchats over the course of a year when they were 14. This is a poem I created exclusively from the messaged I received, in order of being received.

I don’t want to show my face anymore. I’m so unhappy with how I look. I hate everything about me. Now I’m just sitting in the bathroom crying. I just hate me. My face. My weight. I don’t feel perfect. I look awful. I want to be perfect. I want to be handsome. I’m not accepted. I’m not loved. I hate myself. I never want to see myself or anybody else. See me ever again. I want to disappear or be invisible. To never be seen by anybody ever again. And my parents will never let me change. It’s just a phase, what happened to my daughter? They’ll say it’s too expensive. I peel my skin off. Well actually scratch it off. I tried so hard. Without wanting to skip the next meal. Without thinking of ways to lose weight fast. They see my outfit and they like it. But they don’t see what I’m hiding. They can’t see through my mask. They can’t see under my sleeves and gloves. They think it’s just a style I have. But under my fingerless gloves and sleeves. Is something nobody ever wishes to see. I have to use my right hand to take pictures. Because if I don’t my scabs will show. I wear short sleeves at home. To keep suspicion out of the picture. But whenever I’m wearing short sleeves. And somebody is coming near. Or home. I have to race as fast as I can. To grab my long sleeves to cover the scabs. It’s so hot outside, why don’t you wear some summer clothes instead? Not to mention that I’m unaccepted. Because I’m transgender. The scabs itch. And I have to resist to picking at them. My solution is pick at a different spot. And when I have kids. They’re gonna ask one day. What’s the marks all over daddy? What will we say then? That’s assuming I get married and adopt. Or even… Nevermind… It’s hard to even look at myself. Thanks anxiety. I scratched off more skin. It was on my wrist. CODE RED CODE RED. I haven’t had meds. All weekend. And mom isn’t giving them to me right now. I’m too busy right now, can I get back to you later? I couldn’t button dress pants. I feel obese now. The only reason I still eat is because. I want to reach full height. ‘Cause tall guys are hot to be honest. I think roughly 5’7”. I have big feet. I NEED TO GROW TALLER I HAVE BIG FEET. I got men’s shoes. I’m so happy about this. I’m happy. Mom called me handsome. I’m so happy too.