Step into a tanning booth and fry yourself for three days. After your skin bubbles and peels off, roll in coarse salt, then pull on long underwear woven from spun glass and razor wire. Over that goes your regular clothes as long as they’re tight.
Smoke gunpowder and go to school to jump through hoops, sit up and beg, and roll over on command. Listen to the whispers that curl into your head at night, calling you ugly and fat and stupid and bitch and whore and worst of all “a disappointment”. Puke and starve and cut and drink because you don’t want to feel any of this. Puke and starve and cut and drink because you need an anaesthetic and it works. For a while. But the anaesthetic turns into poison and by then it’s too late because you are mainlining it now, straight into your soul. It is rotting you and you can’t stop.
Look in a mirror and find a ghost. Hear every heartbeat scream that everysinglething is wrong with you.
"I miss you."
“You know…I’ve been waiting 4 weeks for that text. You were the only thing that’s been on my mind for 4 weeks. And you know what? I thought I missed you too. I really did. But I’m stupid. You know why? You’ve showed me your true self. And coming back together with you really shows…