I want to be so skinny. I need to feel the bones, that fall beneath the skin so tattered and torn. I want to feel the hunger and feed upon it's pain, the only food I need is the food that feeds my brain. I need to watch the calories and make sure there's less than 500, otherwise my goal is obliterated and the blade gives me my punishment. I know that I am like the rest that hold the blade and stop the food, I know that I too am worthless of doing any good. I know that they care but the one who matters doesn't. He doesn't notice for him I do it all. He doesn't pay attention to the clues that I subtly drop or the tears that caress my cheeks at night, the ones that he knows I cry. He is just my friend, nothing more ever. But still this hope lies deep within my mind, thinking that maybe he may give me the time. And that eventually the starving and the cuts upon my wrists, will provide him with enough assurance that my love for him would never diminish.
