Would you still think I was beautiful if you knew that I was ineffective?

I have a lack of authority.

I don't want to be JM, but I might be headed that way.

I'd rather be MC. I think she should be a teacher. She's brilliant at what she does. I don't think GCSE's matter particularly- it's evident she's bright enough for pretty much anything, I'd listen if she taught, and she'd do it a damn sight better than I do.

They think she's cool, and they respect her- but I can't do that, because I try too hard and I'm some kind of autistic spectrum somehow, behaviour from books.

Calories today:

An apple-40
A sandwich (tuna and cucumber)-350

cake -300
a smoothie-150

spaghetti-350

All in all, 1200. I think that's pretty good. I didn't let myself starve and I didn't gorge either- it worked out pretty well.

Anyway, you talked to me today about your daughter who shares a health problem with me. You wanted to know about curing it, and I suggested weight gain. You laughed. You said your daughter's blonde and fair. Were you? I can't quite believe it. I catch hints of brown in your hair sometimes. I conjured up a fairy child, about my age, but maybe that's not it. You didn't say, yes, she could do with gaining a few stone. You said, it's not the way women's body image is, is it? Buck the trend, then you laughed. I wish I knew how you felt about calories and all the rest. Ridiculous or not? Something you secretly abide by?

This disease, it's not anything mental- it's a circulatory problem.

I liked when you sat opposite me when I was marking things and looked very earnest. It's evident that you love your family. Beautiful hair, lovely face. It's never as elegant in my drawings as it is in real life. I try to be true, adding the bump in your nose, but I harden your jawline too much and I make your nose too big, and your eyes are too small to be real. In real life, you're far more attractive a prospect. Bright blue eyes and a dignified nose, but it's not too big, it's the right sort of size for your face. Long and sculpted, dignified, of course, like everything about you. I like the way your trousers hang about your long slim legs, and the way you're bundled safe into black velvet. I even like those ugly boots you wear.

Why don't you like non-uniform days? You don't seem overly prim, just staid enough to be safe and to make me feel better about being around you. Are you like me, you don't want to wear normal clothes to work because they're scruffier than what you always wear? You rotate your wardrobe every week, so maybe these are the only clothes you have. Maybe you're disappointed about how you look in clothes? I'm not. You're seldom seen out of work, because you've got nothing to wear? Because you don't care, and you don't want anything because you're happy going rambling and feeding chickens and driving about visiting far off peaks? This is what I imagine, the last one. Am I one of the beautiful people? I daresay no. I think your estimation of me is a flitty young thing who's ridiculous, at times, and far too optimistic. Flippant and insubstantial.

I don't know if I could sink into you, the way I used to want to, because I feel like I'm falling short, but I do still hold you in the highest regard. Love letters not for recipient.