Chapter 1 — That Fateful Night
sigh Haiz… again and again. The sadness wraps around me like a heavy blanket I can't shake off. I look in the mirror and all I see is fat, ugly—someone no one wants.
I lost my leader spot. My hard earned achievements, gone. All because I'm fat. It's so unfair, but why do people treat me like trash? Like I'm nothing?
Tonight, it hit me harder than ever. This is the third time I've thought about ending it all. The voice in my head screams, You're useless.
I cried for two hours straight. The clock says 11 PM. What now? What am I supposed to do when the world feels so cold and lonely?
School was a battlefield. I kept quiet all day, swallowed the insults and the side eyes. Why do classmates body shame me? Why do they avoid me like I'm contagious? I don't get it. I just want to be seen.
Desperate, I turn to the internet, hoping for an escape.
t e e n c… a teen chat site. Never knew this existed. Maybe someone out there won't judge me. Maybe I can find a friend.
'hi'
"sup bbg"
What the hell? What even is that? No thanks. Next.
'hiiiii'
"hello"
"I'm Lona"
"I'm Henry"
"oh nice"
"do you have any hobbies?"
"Yeah, singing and music."
Okay, this isn't bad. But then comes the harsh part:
"wanna add IG?"
"sureeee"
On Instagram:
"I'm here"
"oh hi again"
Notification: picture sent
BOOM! Why is this dude sending me that? What the hell?He sends his stick to me. Ew, gross! This website is nuts. Block him. Maybe I'll find a girl friend instead.
I try six more people. No one replies. No one cares. Maybe I should just sleep. Even strangers won't talk to me tonight.
Wait—someone messaged me.
"hi there!"
"oh hi, how are you?"
"I'm fine. How about you?"
"Trying to find new friends, but no one talks properly. Huhuhu."
"Poor cutie girl."
"I hope you're not like the others. But honestly, I have no hope."
"Wait... you're different. I wanted someone real to talk to. Can I get your Instagram?"
"Well, if you want..."
Cutie girl? He saw my face and actually called me cute? That almost never happens. Unbelievable. I felt a flutter in my chest. Someone actually thinks I'm different? Someone actually wants to talk?
I glance at the clock—11:45 PM. Late, but who cares? For once, I don't feel so alone.
"Do you have dreams, Lona?"
"To be happy. To be accepted. And maybe to lose some weight without losing myself because I hate the way being fat make me feel so lonely."
"That's real. I hope you get there."
I stare at my phone. The conversation felt easy, like breathing after holding it for too long. For the first time tonight, I smiled.
He gets it. Someone gets it. My heart feels a little less heavy.
My phone glowed softly in the dark room. Tears still stained my cheeks, but now they were mixed with a strange hope. A pause.
"Can I ask something personal?"
"Shoot."
"Why do you feel so alone?"
That question hit deep, the truth I try to hide bursting through.
"Because people judge me before they know me. Because I'm fat. Because I lost my confidence."
I almost deleted the message. But he waited.
"That sucks. Nobody should feel like that. I'm sorry you're going through it."
I typed, erased, typed again:
"Thanks. It's hard not to hate myself sometimes."
He replied quickly:
"You're not your weight, Lona. You're more than numbers or gossip. I believe that."
Tears welled again—this time from kindness, from the first spark of hope in a long time.
I leaned back, staring at the ceiling. Outside, the world was still dark, but inside me, something flickered.
Maybe I'm not invisible.
Maybe someone sees me.
"Do you have real friends?"
"A few. But not many who get what it's like to feel different."
"Same. That's why I'm here, looking for someone who gets it."
He typed slower, choosing words carefully.
"I'm shy. People call me weird. Sometimes I just want to scream into silence."
I smiled. So we're both broken in our own way.
"Shy? Sounds like you hide a lot."
"Yeah. But talking to you feels… easy."
Easy. That word echoed in my heart. I haven't felt that in forever.
"Same here. It's nice to just… be."
Clock ticked past midnight. I should sleep, but I didn't want to stop.
"Do you ever get scared you'll never be enough?"
"All the time. But I remind myself that 'enough' is what I believe—not what others say."
I nodded to the screen, feeling hope.
"Maybe I should start believing too."
"You will. One step at a time."
I closed my eyes, breathing deeply. The weight inside felt lighter.
Maybe tomorrow won't be so bad.
Just maybe.