Teenaged Julia has lost a friend and classmate to an eating disorder, and, like everyone in her social group, is struggling with how to process the loss. Here she explains to her absent friend why she was unable to speak at the funeral.
(Warning: Using this monologue without permission is illegal, as is reproducing it on a website or in print in any way.)
I didn't want to speak at your funeral because there is nothing to say. You were sick and we all stood by, supporting you maybe but letting it happen too. Now we act like it was your time or there's some greater plan but we all know that the truth is we let you kill yourself.
I'm sick of dealing with eating disorders; half the people I know have them and it makes the world seem fucked up and hopeless. I'm not going to let myself fall into the same trap as you, Rache. There are people dying everywhere because they don't think they're beautiful, don't think they're good enough, don't see anything worthwhile in the mirror unless they see a sliver of themselves. And its not just appearances, no, its control. Pressure has been mounting since we were little girls to be thinner, taller, tanner, smarter. You have to have a 4.0 and a slew of outside activities to get into any good college and on top of that you have to look like a model to have a social life at all. (Riled up. Nearly screaming:)
Fuck this society that fucks with our brains and skews our priorities! Fuck McDonalds, fuck Urban Outfitters, fuck politics and global warming. Fuck diets and donuts and capitalism, fuck scales and coal and modern-day slavery! Fuck California! Fuck Hollywood! Fuck models and runways and size double zeros! What the hell is that anyway? Double zero? Really?