There is nothing special about me. I’m not pretty, I’m fat, and no guy has tried to make a pass at me for two years. I’m so fucking desperate, I hate myself for acting flirty with everyone just in case I get a chance. My best friend has left me alone, and I can tell I annoy her. I fantasise about someone finding me with an empty case of pills, peacefully gone to sleep forever in bed. I fantasise about the best friend finding me, so that I can die knowing someone cared.