Anthony C.
Photography by Emma Kraus
Please Note: Before reading this letter, I want you to know that I discuss my struggles with bullying and suicidal thoughts. If you think that this content may be too much or triggering for you, I encourage you to read another letter on IfYourReadingThis.org or to prepare resources that you may find helpful.
If you’re reading this, I love the sound of your laugh.
I pride myself on being a funny friend. I love making my friends laugh.
I joke about being a former fat kid. I show pictures of what I looked like in middle school, to which I usually get reactions filled with laughs and a shocked, “that does NOT look like you!” What I don’t tell them when I make these jokes is that, when I looked like that, I was at the lowest point in my life.
I got bullied really badly. Everyday, kids were making fun of the way I looked and taking my lunch because “I didn’t need it.” I hated myself. I hated everything about myself, from the way I looked to the way I sounded. Nearly everyday, when I was going home hungry from not eating lunch, I considered taking my own life. I thought of how I would do it so that I would feel as little pain as possible. But, I never went through with it.
To be perfectly honest, I don’t know exactly what made me stay. Maybe it was that everyday, I unconsciously found at least one reason, no matter how small it was, not to. Maybe it was that I just have a really low pain tolerance and no part of me wants to feel pain. But I got through it. And now I’m here to tell (and joke) about that time in my life.
I joke about dropping pre-med. I came into college desperately wanting to be a doctor. As all aspiring doctors, I was taking General Chemistry, and it was one of the most difficult things I have ever experienced. It was not even three months into college when I quickly disregarded my dreams of going to medical school and becoming a doctor. This was an extremely hard realization. I felt like a failure.
I can remember going to the Charles River Esplanade and breaking down. I remember feeling hopeless and lost. I’m the type of person who always needs a plan, but I had just torn apart my plan and didn’t know where to go from there. My insecurities changed and manifested into emotional and mental ones, but, again, I powered through them as hard as I could.
After so many years, I wish I could say that I have gotten over all of my insecurities. But they’re still there. Some days I wake up and, when I look in the mirror, I hate the image of the person staring back at me. I’m constantly comparing my body to those of other guys, especially those I’m attracted to. I open up Instagram or Grindr and am reminded that I don’t look like that. I don’t like the way I look. Some days, I still hate the person in the mirror staring back at me.
But some days I don’t. Some days, I look in the mirror and realize the amazing person looking back at me. I look at how far that person has gotten and the great things he has accomplished, and I stand there and appreciate him for all that he’s done.
I don’t know how valid humor is as a coping mechanism. But for me, it works. A lot of times, there’s so much more behind a joke. I can use it to cope, to make myself feel better.
There is always a reason to stay. Even if it is just to hear the dumb jokes that I make.
Because I really do love the sound of your laugh.
Anthony C., Boston University
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