Dear Nobody Read Free Page A

on a bet. A bet that I can survive, that I can still be what destiny wants me to be. That soon my “losing streak” will end, that someday I’ll get inspired, that someday I’ll find God’s gifts.
    For now, I’ve got no choice but to get by on my dreams; and hope at least one of them becomes reality’s beauties.

Dear Nobody,
    A few nights ago Joe came here from Reading on some job. He brought with him two very attractive guys in my age range. They were both very polite and pleasant. We got drunk and smoked some weed. One of the guys was VERY cute, and the other was talkative and cute—but the quieter one was my favorite. He and I talked, and it ALMOST made me feel human again. I’m not sure how fucked up he was, but I was pretty blasted. He was dancing, and he tried to get me to dance. I guess I wasn’t fucked up enough—or maybe I just liked watching him dance more?
    Grrrrr —he was the nicest looking guy I’d seen for a while.
    I was too fucked up to remember what we talked about, and I can barely remember them leaving.
    I woke up early the next morning, knowing that today was a new day, with new nameless faces.

Dear Nobody,
    I feel sick, like I have the flu or something. I’ve got fevers, pains, headaches, sore throat, no appetite, vertigo, exhaustion and I can’t breathe. I can’t even cough to try and clear my lungs. My Tylenol with Codeine is barely helping, even if I take tablespoons instead of the usual teaspoons.
    I really hate sickness.
    If one thing in the world could be erased, I’d pick sickness. Then all the money spent on research and healthcare could be used to cure hunger and poverty. After that, it could be used by organizations that would help animals and women, children, or the defenseless. After that, it could be spent on improving the educational system. (And whatever is left over could be used for space exploration).

Dear Nobody,
    I was admitted into the hospital with a lung infection. They found a virus in my lungs similar to TB (tuberculosis). The doctor said that my immune system was “in the wrong gear” and attacking my hips. So this obstruction in between my hip socket and hip bone was slowly pushing apart those bones. I lay in bed at the hospital for over a week with traction strapped to my hip.
    When I was first admitted, the doctors pulled down my pants and underwear—and stuck a four inch needle straight into my hip socket without any Novocain. It hurt like hell; and I was SO humiliated.
    Later, the doctors told my mom that if she had waited any longer to bring me in—that my hip may never have healed. I would either not be able to walk, or have a terrible limp my whole life. They said they didn’t know how much damage had already been done.

Dear Nobody,
    I’m getting out of the hospital today. I’m not getting much better, but my condition has stabilized. I don’t care either way; I just want to be home. Before I left, the doctor lectured me on everything, including an awful conversation about “safe sex.”
    AS IF I DIDN’T ALREADY KNOW!

Dear Nobody,
    After leaving the hospital, I was confined to a wheelchair. Most of the girls at school were nice to me, and suddenly became my friend, out of pity. I would rather they just ignore me, than feel like someone’s charity case. The boys at school were still horrible. It wasn’t before long that I cried more from someone teasing me, than from my bones being slowly ripped apart.
    Yesterday, I had just gone to lunch and was pushing along in my wheelchair, when some boys started making fun of me. They were being so cruel. I just sat there, on the verge of tears, and got so angry and so sick of everyone and all of my humiliation and torment that my shame turned into fury and rage and hatred. For them and for myself.
    I looked at all of them—and screamed as loud as I could: “Shut up, SHUT UP, SHUT UP, SHUT