I am an 18-year-old gay man. Before I know it, I'll be in my 40s and living alone in a small, one-story house in a filthy suburb. After I die, nobody will remember my name. In a few days, I'll officially be a college student. A college student who drinks coffee and carries a messenger bag and who's quickly approaching 19. I might as well start digging my own grave to avoid putting the cemetery people through so much work, as I'll need a large hole, since I'm so big. My hair is dark, my eyes are dark, my jaw is too severe... I look too strict and mature. I will never be the fresh, young child I used to be, the one who ran carelessly in the prairies, licking a lolipop. I'll never go back to that. I eat a lot because I want my pale, sick-looking face and neck to get a bit bigger, to have a chubby, childish look, but everything I eat goes straight to my stomach and love handles and now I am too ashamed to remove my coat when in public and keep it on to mask my curves. I am ashamed of myself and bitter and spend my days walking around the house, gazing resentfully at pictures of my former self.

Soon, I won't feel the touch of youth anymore. Right now, my hands are rather smooth and if I rub them together, I can feel the softness of my skin, but in a year or two, even if I touch the behind of a fresh baby, all I'll feel will be the pig-like, rugged skin attached to my once unspoilt and delicate hands. My skin will soon start to sag. I started writing my memoirs, but my life has been so bitter and boring that I have nothing else to write about than my spite for everything and everyone.

How can I cope with this?