Sometimes, distortion in an image can appear as light.

Especially if you're desperately looking for a bright spot somewhere.

At least the depression's made me prettier, I think.

Not having an appetite lost me the few pounds that always made the doctor shake his head.

I slide my hands across my stomach and waist.

It only took a month to lose that weight.

Prettier, I think, cringing at the sick swirl of happiness that follows.

There's got to be a bright spot somewhere.

And even if that light is false and isn't really there, I'll take it over nothing at all.

Reality can be whatever twisted, fractured place I want it to be.