Here's how it goes, the magazines, the tiny jeans,

A continuous circle of hard feelings,


When it's not this, it's that.

Always something nibbling away at my mind.

My skin, it isn't clear today, my hair hangs in a limp mess, my clothes feel too tight,
suffocating my breath. Too pale, too much of anything I'd rather not be.




I'll get out of bed anyways, and face the human I am, but not "supposed" to be.