“He’s coming”.

“Don’t be mean I feel bad”.

“Fine just to make sure this kid doesn’t kill himself”.

“Hehehehehehehehehehehehe”

That eerie sound of snickering which resonated in my ear drums each time I neared my “friends” constantly permeated my mind with unease, as I was able to hear what they said. Every. Single Time. 

Little did they know how insecure I was about my body, how I always looked in the mirror and shamed myself for being the way I was.

“What’s up big guy?”

“What’s good big man?”

“How’s it going champ?”

These phrases were all familiar friends to me. The big guy, big man, champ, and etc were all identities I was synonymous with. I found them to be affectionate and reaffirming over time, and an indication of the bonds I had with my friends. 

That’s what I liked to tell myself. But in reality, it ate away at my sanity and created this void which could not be replaced by any regular means. I had created this sense of otherness within myself to a point where I could not recognize who I was any longer, instead trying to fill this void with friends who added fuel to the fire going on inside my mind.

 

The truth was staring me right in the face. The type of stare a tiger gives towards its prey, the one no one directly confronts, but instead chooses to deny and deny until it no longer can be denied and is staring them right in the face. Analogous to the one my friends always gave me as I tried to start a conversation, but ended up being the laughing stock of it. 

 

This stare, the one my friends symbolically gave me every time I saw them, was one I consciously ignored until I could not any longer. To me, having bad friends was better than having no friends at all. And so, I invited all my friends to a local carnival that was going on. 

 

“Yo meet me at the carnival at 8 on Saturday” I said in the group chat I had just created two seconds earlier. 

3 minutes later, no responses.

10 minutes later, no responses. 

*Seen by all*

“Oh ok, that means they’ll all be there at 8. I’ll text them individually to make sure” I reassured myself. 

“Hey you’re coming right?”

“Oh sorry bro I got plans for Saturday :(“

Well, at least I tried!

I had the Saturday to myself, I was able to relax, what more could I want? People are busy, it happens.

Being as bored as I was, I went to my iPhone 6 to check my social media, and what awaited me was a nasty surprise.

All my friends, posting on their stories of them at the carnival, without even telling me they were going to go. My heart plummeted into the 1000 meter cavity in my chest as I began to feel that emptiness and heartbreak permeate through to my core. 

The doubts about my friendships ballooned my mind with insecurities about myself, as the chubby, ignorant child I had saw in the mirror for so long turned into the source of my discomfort. Is it because of my weight? Am I socially awkward? 

No, it has to be because of my weight. That’s the only thing that makes me different from all of my friends and I. That’s the only thing keeping me away from having real friends, because they can’t be seen hanging around without me. It’s way too embarrassing for them so that’s why they make fun of me all the time. 

Why did I have to be so goddamn fat? What makes me so much more different than anyone else? What’s WRONG with me?

These questions plagued my thoughts and soon enough, I drowned in them, without any hope for a gasp of fresh air. The void which had already manifested by my own insecurities had become even deeper, as now the friends I cherished only added to my long list of shortcomings I had created in my mind. 

 

“Damn bro get a larger size shirt I can see your man titties from here.”

“Teletubby lookin ass.”

“Pillsbury dough boy headass.”

“Maybe you should lose some weight bro. I’m trying to help you out.”

 

Bam. There it was. The small scratches those insults left culminated in a huge gash, one that could not be repaired by any means I saw possible.

I walked the hallways without any confidence from that point on, as the self-doubt I had grew until I could no longer bare its weight. All those laughs weren’t with me: they were at me. Every time I was excluded from a hangout, a group chat, or even the lunch room table only added to this effect, as eventually I had to cope with myself.

I felt as if I could do nothing with my life. If I could not make friends, one of the most elementary skills of a human being, how could I do anything else? How could I let myself come to this point where my weight becomes the focal point of my identity? Aren’t friends supposed to help each other out?

 

Not only was I an outsider with my friend group, but I felt like an outsider in my own body.