are you fine?
yes of course, don't worry

my fridge is stocked
thats a good thing right?
unless its the same food
for a week, un touched in the slightest

you wont eat
"are you anorexic, my friend?"
"yes" the words flow into me like a million blades in my blood
but i smile and say, i'll help you

you start to eat
your getting better
my best friend is getting better

my friend..."your fat"

i remember saying that to you
all those years ago
i started this

i hear the sound of gagging filling the halls
i run to you there
besides the toilet
face expressionless, eyes cold

how could you?

you lie down, and i remember that its my fault

this is all my fault , right?
yes
i'm sorry
pretty late isn't it?
what do you mean?
i'm already dead

and with that theres a pounding in your head
there tears in your eyes
and you realize
this is all a lie

when i thought you were getting better, it was a way to cope with the fact that you had died
i lied-
to myself
to you

guilt, turns a person mad and forces them into the truth
even if they cant mange to swallow it