Just believe that I can do everything you said I can’t. Because I’m trying, very hard, everyday, to prove you wrong. All of you.
That I can’t study because I’m too distracted, that I’ll never be pretty because I have big bones, that I’ll never be able to be skinny again, that I’ll have a hard time when Jack leaves, that I’ll always have a fat, chubby face, that I’ll graduate with at least latin honors, that I’ll travel the world, that I’ll make a decent living.
I’m scared, but I’m trying. I’ll never be good enough, but I’ll never stop trying to be.
Or maybe, these are what I think I cannot do, or be.