Dear Lauren,

I feel like I'm dying.

My head hurts, my stomach feels like it's eating itself, I'm shaking, and I'm about to cry again at any moment. And to think this all happened because of one moldy sandwich.

All I ate was a packet of chips and some of my friend's fruit snacks. I was at school from 8:40 to 7:00. That's how long I went with barely eating anything. Actually, I'm pretty sure I finished breakfast around 7:00, so that's twelve hours with barely anything.

It's because of that stupid orchestra concert. It was so weird. They were changing everything and no one really knew what was happening. My friend and I had plenty of laughs though. The guy I like was sitting next to her and looking at us like we were crazy. In his defense, we are, especially me at that moment due to lack of food.

My friend also felt the need to point out that I need to use chapstick (I had already started using some a week before, but I lost it) in front of him. It feels like it shouldn't have been embarrassing when he agreed, but it was.

My brother thought that he'd rather climb over my backpack and me who he got in the car after we picked him up from his friend's house instead of going around the car into the street to get into his seat like a normal person. His argument was that he was barefoot, but I'd rather him walk on the street where there was the highly unlikely chance that he'd step on something that'd hurt him than accidentally put his foot in the wrong way so he steps on my stomach and leaves me feeling like I might vomit all over him. I'll admit it, I was being a tad whiny, but my mom tried to make us stop and told him that I was just hangry and to let it go. Guess who let go? Guess who didn't?

That's right. I cried in silence through my misery as my brother continued to might with my mom. There's no room for me in this family anymore. From the moment my mom was pregnant with him, everything revolved around him.

Who's the one that makes someone put him to bed every night? Who's the one who throws a fit every time he doesn't get his way? Who's the one that sends our parents to bed sobbing, wondering where they went wrong?

Who's the one that people forget is there? Who is the one that's suffered every rude comment made in both of our presence? Who's the one that has to be on her own all day because everyone forgets she exists? Who's the one that needs perfect grades because what is her purpose if she gets below a 95? Who's the one failing her grandmother's native tongue?

I'm the one that's suffered every single fucking day because of him! I'm the one that's supposed to be perfect and not! I'm the one people now their heads and whisper about how much better I could be! He goes out into the world and acts like an angel and then gets home to make everything about him and everyone forget about me!

So what if I try to make stuff about me too? It doesn't matter when people refuse to acknowledge my existence. To those who do, I apologize. To those who don't, I'm begging you to just look at me for once and tell me that I matter.

Sometimes it feels like there's so many tears I'm

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I've collected so many over the years. From orchestra. From humanities. From martial arts. From my brother. From being too ugly, inside and out. From failing tests. From my dreams being crushed with every grade below 95. From every project that's too big. From stuff being too much or too hard. From mourning. From being myself. From not being enough. From being forgotten. From not living up to expectations. From not being perfect.